Plasmius: The Origins of Vlad!
by wafische
Summary: The story of Vlad and how he descended into villainy. Story Complete. Please R&R.
1. The Beginning

Skulker pulled the electric screwdriver back into his armour and lifted up his protective mask, stepping back to admire his work. Vlad had recently employed his services for the task of rebuilding his ruined Ghost-Zone Portal. Of course, with Skulker's technological savvy, it wasn't much trouble. He had his resources, his tools, and anything he didn't have Vlad managed to obtain through his company Dalv Corp.

Vlad had been asking Skulker to help him with many things lately; one ongoing project had been constructing ghost-hunting weapons that seemed to be made for a teenager. He had no idea why Vlad was so intent on getting such things made, but he had known him long enough to know not to ask. In any case, he had always gotten his fair share from their deal.

The portal was just about done. All that was left was to turn it on. Skulker tossed his mask aside and grinned as he bent down to pick up the main cables.

"Now…" he said. "It is time to…" a beeping sound went off on his left arm. The ghost-hunter looked to see the message on the PDA.

"'Fly to magazine stand…'" he read. "'…Purchase magazine with article on dieting habits of purpleback gorillas…'"

With that, his rockets shot out of his back and fired off, catapulting him through the roof of the underground lab and out of Vlad's Gothic castle. As he hadn't had time to let go of the cables, he pulled them along with him, eventually tearing them out of their sockets in the wall. This set off a rather large explosion that produced a sound substantial enough to travel upstairs, where Vlad was reading in his den. At the noise, he looked down at the floor, sighed, set his book down, and headed downstairs.

All the work that had been accomplished on the portal was now ruined. The outer frame had collapsed, the main generator had blown out of the foundation and left a huge hole filled with soil in the wall, and the controls were completely fried. It was in even worse shape now than when repairs had started.

Vlad, trembling in his struggle to control himself, rolled up his sleeve and activated the voice communicator in his watch.

"Skulker!" he shouted in a way that demanded explanation.

"It's this infernal device!" the hunter yelled back, "It _still_ acts up even _with_ the reprogramming!"

Vlad sighed again. Somehow, they had to find a way to get rid of that thing. "Can you repair the damage?" he asked.

"Of couse!"

"Very well," Vlad sighed yet again. "See you when you return. I have things to take care of anyway."

---

The second part of Vlad's lab, once meant for ghostly experiments, had been converted to storage space for all of the weapons and equipment meant for Valerie Gray. Their arrangement with one another was going well; Valerie still had no idea who she was getting her toys from, and Vlad's goals were being carried out just fine. Now as Plasmius, he was gathering all his latest works together in a box for delivery. He had set everything out the other night, and now he just had to pack it.

As he was finishing up, he looked around to see if he'd missed anything when something half buried under the newspapers he used as packaging caught his eye. As he drew it out he saw that it was his picture from college of himself, Maddie, and Jack, Jack's face still torn off. He hadn't looked at this photograph since Jazz had been to his home. His eyes rested on Maddie for a moment before going over to his own face.

There was no beard then, his hair colour made him seem his age, and he actually appeared happy.

Then he recalled the day the picture was taken; one day before the accident.

"_Jack_," he hissed. And, though not consious of it, he began to let his mind wander back to that day…

_(He's a Phantom)  
(Danny Phantom)_

_**Young Danny Fenton, he was just fourteen  
When his parents built a very strange machine  
It was designed to view a world unseen**_

_(He's gonna catch 'em all cuz he's Danny Phantom)  
_  
_**When it didn't quite work  
His folks, they just quit  
But then Danny took a look inside of it  
There was a great big flash  
Everything just changed  
His molecules got all rearranged!**_

_(Phantom, Phantom)_

_**When he first woke up  
He realized  
He had snow white hair  
And glowing green eyes  
He could walk through walls,  
Disappear, and fly!  
He was much more unique than the other guy!**_  
_(He's gonna catch 'em all cuz he's Danny Phantom)  
(He's gonna catch 'em all cuz he's Danny Phantom)_

It was then that he knew what he had to do  
He had to stop all the ghosts  
That were coming through  
He's here to fight  
For me and YOU!

_**Gonna catch them all cuz he's**_ _Danny Phantom_

**_Plasmius…The Origins of Vlad!_**

Twenty years ago, at the University of Wisconsin at Green Bay, life was good for Vlad Masters. He was in his junior year, with high grades and several honours. He had majors in computer science, electronics, drama, chemistry, and mythology. He made his living off the money he received from scholarship. He was living in the same city as his favourite football team, the Green Bay Packers. And he had the best friend a man could have.

That friend was Jack Fenton, the craziest guy on campus. He was Vlad's age and in most of his classes. His grades were all B-minuses instead of As, and he was the biggest, most absent-minded bumbling goofball imaginable, but he was still quite an inventor. He'd been tinkering with electronics and gadgetry since he was a small boy. Vlad had met him at the beginning of their freshman year, and the two of them quickly became inseperable. They were roomates. They were lab partners. Whenever tickets for a Packers game came along at a price within their range, Vlad resisted the urge to buy them right away, instead always making sure there were two available. If not, they watched the game from their room at campus. They were always swapping notes and trading ideas for classes and outside school activities. They weren't the most popular of people at the school – though Jack imagined they were – but it didn't matter. No matter how many times they were called freaks, no matter how many times someone poured the contents of a punch bowl over their heads at parties, no matter how many times the jocks shoved them around in between classes, they stuck together. They were the other's main compadre, their right-hand man, the yin and yang of one another. Best of all, neither thought it was weird that the other believed in ghosts.

Vlad had never actually seen a ghost, but before they died in that car accident his parents had done a lot of research into them as a favour to their horror novelist friend. Vlad had looked over the information they had found. For many weeks after he couldn't sleep, but once the initial fear went away, he began to find ghosts quite interesting. He stayed up late at night, watching old horror films and brimming over books, both fact and fiction, that dealt with the paranormal. He looked up books and reports by real paranormal experts. One night, he was even able to find some traces of ectoplasm for study. He had only reports and that trace of material to go on. When he made attempts at designing ghost weaponry more advanced than what was known to be out there, they didn't turn out well without more spectral power to go with them. But with all he had been able to learn he had managed put together quite a file. When it came to innovative ghost theory, he didn't like to speculate without more to go on. But he had made some discoveries on his own that were fascinating. One especially intriguing breakthrough he had made was learning that ectoplasm caused strange mutations in ghosts.

Jack was a complete ghost fanatic. He had compiled together about five hundred theories on ghosts and designed about two hundred ghost combat and study devices, all of them far more advanced than any used by paranormal experts of the day. He'd collected many ectoplasmic samples and had found ways to tap into spectral energies to power his devices. Most of his files were made up of crazy theories and guesses rather than known facts about ghosts, but they were just crazy enough to possibly be true. He also built his weapons instead of just designing them. Usually, Jack's hastiness caused him to make half his calculations in building his weapons wrong. Vlad was able to catch those mistakes, but neither of them could get anything to work. That's where Maddie came in.

Maddie…

If there was one thing or one person that could ruin Vlad's friendship with Jack, Maddie was that person.

They'd met at a party hosted by her friend Harriet Chin. The instant Vlad saw her, he was tempted to grab a punch glass, put on his best romantic face, walk up to her and say "Here's looking at you, kid." What happened instead was that she introduced herself to both Vlad and Jack, who both stammered out weak hellos. They soon became good friends with her. Maddie also believed in ghosts, and, being the most intelligent student at the entire university, could always spot all the errors in Jack and Vlad's inventions and work them out. She went over all of Jack's theories and weighed them with all that she had discovered about the paranormal. Half of his ideas she supported, and gave Jack and Vlad plenty of evidence to show that they were good theories. The other half she dismissed – which had little impact on Jack, who kept them anyway.

Maddie was smart, fun, beautiful…

Vlad was completely, obsessively, head-over-heels in love.

The problem was, so was Jack.

His obsession with ghosts and his goofy attitude made it hard for Jack himself to realise it at times, but Vlad could tell that Jack was as in love with Maddie as he was. Jack didn't know Vlad knew, and he also didn't know that Vlad had affections for Maddie as well. Vlad knew that the day they confessed to Maddie and each other was going to be the most trying day on their friendship. Vlad didn't know how it would turn out. He was already starting to feel some wear and tear on their brotherly bond; Maddie always seemed more interested in Jack than she was in him. Whether imagined or not, it appeared to Vlad that Maddie regarded him as just a friend, while there was something about Jack that she was drawn to. Jack was still too goofy to fully grasp this, but Vlad was sure he saw it happening And the most that he had done to combat this was flirt and hint at how he felt. Maddie seemed to take it all as a joke.

But Vlad had made up his mind – today was the day. He would tell Maddie how he felt.

Unfortunately, the hand of fate had Jack inviting both Vlad and Maddie to an important demonstration that same day.

The three of them were in the science lab, lab coats draped over their usual clothes. Just minutes ago, Jack had told Vlad and Maddie that he had secretly been putting together a secret project that he promised would be his ultimate piece of ghost machinery. After a speech about the brilliance of this device and the aid it would give the three of them in their ghost studies, he had revealed the device, tearing away the white drape he had placed over it. What rested on the table was a circular frame hooked up to an engine on the floor. It was what Jack called a "Proto-Portal," and it was meant to open a portal between Earth and the ghost dimension that Maddie, Jack, and many paranormal experts felt to exist.

Vlad was sceptical, and had said as such as soon as Jack had shown them the device. He also felt there was a ghost dimension, but without more to go on, they couldn't know the precise calculations to tap into it. Well, Maddie might, but not Jack. And, based on their past record, success wasn't likely. Especially on an engine that Jack had likely messed around with before he hooked it up to any spectral power. Maddie, on the other hand, was ecstatic. She had been beaming up at Jack, who stood confidently and proudly.

In preparation for the Proto-Portal's first activation, Jack and Maddie were busy making some final adjustments. Vlad stood back a bit, nervous. With all this going on, there was now no worse time to talk to Maddie. Jack was with them, and in a moment of triumph nonetheless. Maddie certainly seemed happy for him…and did he detect something else?

But if he was going to go through with this today, it would have to be now. Maddie was supposed to leave with Harriet as soon as this demonstration was over. And if Vlad put it off again, he'd more likely than not fall back into the same vicious cycle.

With a last gulp, he smiled and stepped over to Maddie, who was hunched over the Proto-Portal.

"Maddie…" Vlad began, masking his fear surprisingly well. "There's something I've been wanting to tell you for a long time…"

"One second, Vlad," Maddie cut him off. "Jack, did you remember to fill the filtrator with ecto-purifier?"

"On it, baby!" Jack said, not looking up from the pamphlet in his hand.

Vlad cringed at the nickname. He watched as Jack filled up the filtrator, and looked away with a frown as Jack and Maddie shared a look. He leaned in towards the Proto-Portal as Jack and Maddie stepped back to admire it.

"I'm telling you Jack – it won't work!" Vlad repeated.

"Bogus V-Man! It totally will!" Jack brushed the comment aside. "This Proto-Portal is guaranteed to bust open the wall into the ghost dimension!" and with that, he and Maddie headed over to the table, Jack to get the trigger and Maddie to look over the blueprints. Vlad leaned closer, eyeing the inside of the machine.

"Jack, these calculations aren't right…" he heard Maddie warn, but it was too late.

"BANZAI!" Jack threw the switch. The motor started up, and the frame began shaking. That was all it did for a moment, but then a green mess of ectoplasm formed inside.

Vlad pulled back a little, surprised. Had Jack finally gotten something to work?

What followed next was quick, but it seemed to last an eternity. The glow from the machine had cast shadows all over the room, darkening the scene and preparing it for what was about to happen. The blast of spectral energy seemed to leap out, consuming the frame from whence it came in its glow and spiralling right across Vlad's face.

"BOGUS!" he shouted, but he was barely aware of the words that came from his mouth. The ectoplasm did not burn, nor did it cut. It cast a long, steady feeling of otherworldly pain right across his face. The closest earthly match would be that of an explosion, but even that did not fit. But beyond what it was doing to his face, something else appeared to be happening. A strange energy seemed to be seeping into his body from his head and dripping down his insides, filling him with a strange coldness that he had never felt before. The blast soon cut off, but the pain and the coldness did not go away.

Vlad put his hands to his face, trying to ease the pain. He was barely aware of his turning around to Jack and Maddie. Slowly he removed his hands away from his face, though not entirely. He heard them both let out gasps of horror. Covering his face again, he headed over to where he knew the mirror was. He dropped his hands and looked. His entire face was covered in red zits, from his forehead to his chin, but that wasn't the worst of it. His eyes, once deep grey-blue, were now a glowing hot blue, and his hair had gone ghostly white.

Vlad stared into the mirror for a moment. Then, for the first time in his life, he fainted, collapsing to the floor in a heap.

Jack and Maddie ran over and bent down.

"V-Man?" Jack asked, panicked.

No answer.

"Vladdie?!"

Still no reply.

"_VLAD!?_"

His best friend did not move.

"A little help here!" he called towards the door, quickly turning back to his unconscious friend.


	2. End of old Bonds

Consciousness slowly returned to Vlad, though he didn't open his eyes immediately. He could feel something soft under his back holding him up, and he could feel something like cloth covering his face. His face itself felt sore, and the way the cloth felt over it was very uneven. His eyes were not covered, and a bright light from above him hurt his eyes even with them closed. With a faint moan, he slowly opened his eyes.

He was looking up at the well-lit ceiling of a hospital room. The lights were pure-white, illuminating the tiles that made up the ceiling and making the room seem even brighter. His face was covered with grey bandages, he had been changed into hospital clothes, and he was lying down on a bed in the centre of the room. He tried to sit up, but he couldn't. His whole body ached, and he still felt cold. He was, however, able to turn his head to the left, where he saw Jack sitting by his bed, a worried expression on his face. Against the wall a few feet behind him was a dresser, and back to his right, at the wall the front of the bed was against, was the door.

"Wha…Jack?" he moaned, his words slightly distorted from the bandages. Jack's face immediately lit up.

"V-Man!" Jack cried. He grabbed Vlad in a great bear hug. Due to Jack's size and inability to realise that Vlad was in pain already, the aches in his body proceeded to grow substantially worse, causing a moan to escape his throat. Jack quickly caught on and let go. Unfortunately, he had actually lifted Vlad out of the bed, and letting go had Vlad falling back into bed with a rather hard impact to his back.

"I knew you'd pull through!" Jack shouted ecstatically, oblivious to Vlad's second moan of pain. "No spectral energy stream takes down my pal Vlad Masters! I –"

Jack stopped, his grin falling into a look of confusion. Vlad was looking up at him, and even though his face was bandaged, Jack could see in his eyes he was looking at him with an expression he had seen only once before – after the backwash incident. It was not quite hate, but it was one of anger, confusion, and demand of an explanation.

"Jack…" Vlad sighed. "What happened?"

Jack didn't answer, and he actually looked a little hesitant to do so. Vlad's expression narrowed under his coverings. He was not in the mood for this.

"_Jack_…" he hissed, more angry than before. "What…_happened_!?"

Jack hesitated for a bit longer, then sighed. "OK, OK…" he said in a voice like that of a little kid having to repeat his parents' rules aloud for them. "I went too fast with the switch, miscalculated once again, you were right, and the Proto-Portal…"

"No…" Vlad grunted. His voice shook slightly as his teeth went up against one another. "What happened _to me_?"

"Oh, that…" Jack's voice immediately faded to a worried tone, and he gulped. "Well…we rushed you to the hospital as fast as we could, Vladdie…they almost laughed us out, but I wasn't letting you just lie there, so…"

"_What is it!?_" Vlad screamed. Jack backed up a few steps.

"You've been hospitalised with a horrible case of ecto-acne," Jack said quickly, as though he felt saying it fast would help it go down better.

Vlad's face lightened, his shoulders slumped, and he titled his head. His eyes revealed feelings of confusion accented by the tiniest bit of annoyance.

"What?"

"What? Vladdie – wait," Jack gasped as his expression turned panicked again. "Don't tell me that – the ectoplasm's gotten to your mind! Ecto-amnesia's kicking in! You don't believe in ghosts anymore! We've got to –"

"Jack, I still believe in ghosts!" Vlad shouted. "Apparently, ecto-acne wasn't one of the thousands of theories you've blathered on to me about!"

"Oh," Jack sighed in relief as calmed down. "Well, the ectoplasm from the blast out of the Proto-Portal was contaminated with an ecto-impurity, and it shot out in enough quaniy to seep into your body and contaminate the epidermis of your face, resulting in a hormone trigger that popped up hundreds of spectrally-contaminated zits. We didn't have the stuff to fix you up on the spot, so we ran you in here. For some reason they laughed at us when I explained the situation, but one of them finally agreed to look over you and saw that it was serious. And that leads us through several hours of your unconsciousness and my pacing the floor until we get to right now."

Vlad stared at Jack for a moment, then looked away. His face was starting to burn, and it wasn't from the bandages or from the excessive pimples. He'd grown used to Jack's stupid mistakes, his miscalculations, and the potentially dangerous accidents he caused when they tried and failed to get their inventions to work. And they'd stuck together through it all. The closest they had come to breaking up – the non-ghost related backwash incident – hadn't driven them apart. But if Jack had done what Vlad was thinking he might have done…

"How long am I supposed to be in here?" he asked a bit too lightly, not turning to look at Jack.

"Ha!" Jack laughed. "I'll have ya' out of here in no time! I'm working on a –"

"How long did the doctors say I'd be in here?" Vlad cut him off, putting more force behind his words.

"At the least a month, probably longer – they don't know how to cure you and they've never seen acne like this before. But, the heck with that! I've got a big –"

"_A month!?_" Vlad shouted, shooting straight up in bed, finally turning to look Jack dead in the eye.

"At the least," Jack repeated, unaware of Vlad's temper. "But don't sweat it, V-Man! I've got a cure in the works even as we speak, and I even brought a small sample along to show ya!" Jack pulled out from his lab coat an un-capped test tube filled with green glowing fluid. "The doctors didn't want me doing anything to you 'cause of some dumb regulation, but I said…"

Jack had been making hand gestures as he talked, and now, one large swing of his arm sent the liquid in the test tube spilling out onto Vlad's left hand. Vlad immediately yelped, pulling his hand back and blowing on it furiously, trying to relieve the burn that it left on his arm. A strange red mark appeared on his hand. Jack looked it over.

"Hmm…" Jack thought aloud. "It appears the cure has the side effect of an ecto-rash," he looked up at Vlad, whose eyes had narrowed again. Jack gave him a sheepish grin.

"Ah well!" Jack said, going back into his own little world. "We'll just have to fix that! Right, Vladdie!"

No answer.

"Vladdie?"

Jack looked back at Vlad. He had again looked away from Jack and now had a grimace on his face so tense and infuriated that it poured out right through the bandages.

"Vlad?" Jack asked, a little hesitantly.

"Jack," Vlad muttered, having difficulty getting his words out through his clenched teeth. "Get me a mirror."

"Why?"

"Get me a mirror."

Jack still didn't move.

"You know, you aren't supposed to take those bandages off…" he started.

"Well Jack," Vlad finally turned to him, some sarcasm lining his voice, "as you say, 'the heck with that,'"

Jack grinned. "That's the spirit, Vladdie!" he said, oblivious to the sarcasm. He grabbed the hand-held mirror on the dresser in the room and tossed it to Vlad, who caught it with his good hand. With his burned hand he ripped the bandages off his face with a couple of hard pulls over his head. He thrust the mirror up to his face and looked.

His face was still dominated by hundreds of little red bumps that now didn't quite look like any human zits. There was nothing different about texture or colour, but they seemed to have some unique ghostly quality. His eyes, though no longer hot or glowing, had not returned to their original colour, instead adopting a middle-tone blue. And his hair was still snow-white rather than his usual deep grey.

Vlad could feel his teeth grinding once again, and his face was getting even hotter.

This was it.

"Jack," he said in a deadly calm voice, slowly turning to face his company with a disturbing phoney-grin on his face, "we've been friends for a long time now. Ever since college started we've been together. Through thick and thin, through good times and bad…and we've always held onto the dynamic duo. There was the backwash incident, and I came close, oh so close, to ending our friendship, but we stayed together through it all, right?"

"Right…"

"Then isn't it ironic that I am now in a hospital bed, wrapped up in bandages and with a burn on my hand, all because of my best friend, Jack Fenton?" Jack didn't respond – his only reaction was a look of shock. Vlad now let his phoney smile slide down into a nasty grimace.

"Oh, it's no big deal!" he hissed, sarcasm returning to his voice. "All this does is insure that what little social life I had is now ruined, that's all! Oh yes, there's also the fact that I'm going to be in here for at least a month – likely longer, as the doctors don't know anything about ghost diseases and can't cure them! Well, that's only two major…oh wait! This happens to be the month that several important tests are to be carried out in school, which I will now miss! And most importantly, I've been horribly disfigured! My hair looks like that of a man twice my age, my face is covered with acne, my eyes aren't even the same shade they were before, and I feel cold all over my body, and not a normal cold! All thanks to you and your stupid Proto-Portal! I told you it wouldn't work, but no! You had to rush in, ignore your miscalculations, and make a huge, fast throw of the switch to show off in front of Maddie! Oh, and by the way – where is she?"

Jack had backed up to the dresser at the wall, his face shocked, confused, and hurt. A trickle of sweat had run down the side of his head. He'd never seen Vlad this angry before – even during the backwash incident. It was frightening.

"I…I took her home a while ago," he stammered. "She was pretty upset about you. She said she'd…"

"Oh, perfect, Jack!" Vlad yelled. "An excellent plan! Take Maddie home so she doesn't see you add to the pain by giving me this ecto-rash!" he held up his bad hand. "I'm sure this will prove a _huge_ help to my treatment! Just like all your other assistance was a _huge _help to our inventions! Well I have news for you, Jack Fenton – I'm tired of your help, I'm tired of your theories, I'm tired of your plans, and I'm tired of _you_!"

Jack almost fell back onto the dresser. Vlad was no longer just angry. Pure, outright disgust and loathing covered every inch of his zit-coated face.

"Vlad I…" Jack stammered again. "I'm sorry…I…"

"Oh sure!" Vlad rolled his eyes, turning to sit at the bed's edge, directly across from Jack. "'I'm sorry, Vlad! This kind of thing will never happen again!' Well, there won't be a chance for it to happen again!"

"What do you…"

"Get out!" Vlad roared. "I never want to see you again as long as I live!"

Jack didn't move – he couldn't. How could this have happened?

"Didn't you hear me!?" Vlad screamed. "Get out! _Now_!"

His words had so much menace in them that Jack's brain and nerves triggered an automatic jump to the door. He prepared to leave. But before he closed the door he poked his head back in the room.

"Vlad, just give me…"

"OUT!" Vlad tossed the mirror in his hand at Jack's head. Jack quickly pulled his head out and closed the door just as the mirror hit, sending out the horrible sound of shattering glass. The frame of the mirror slid to the floor, landing face-up. Most of the glass had been crushed into oblivion or imbedded in the door, and what was left was severely broken up and knocked around within the frame. Now almost all the shattered pieces managed to catch at the very end of their reflections Vlad's steaming form, right at the edge of the bed and almost standing up, grabbing at the covers with a death grip and hissing his breaths in through clenched teeth.


	3. Out with Jack

Vlad's fury at Jack proved to be far more serious than one day's anger at an unfortunate event. From that moment on, at Vlad's request, Jack was not allowed to visit him. He wasn't allowed to write letters to him. Vlad absolutely refused to speak with him. Jack tried getting around the hospital's new rules concerning him. He tried disguises (often these involved overcoats, fedoras, and fake moustaches – they didn't work). He tried sneaking in through the window (as Vlad was up on the fourth floor and Jack's grappling guns and flight simulation devices were either still blueprints or unable to work, that option was also cut off to him). He even tried breaking into the hospital late at night through the roof one time (he set off an alarm and had to make a break for it). But none of it mattered to Vlad. This whole mess was Jack's fault. He was stuck in his hospital bed, and the way things were going, he was going to be there for a long time. As far as Vlad was concerned, any friendship he'd ever had with Jack was dead and buried – for good.

The doctors Vlad had working on him tried to be cheerful and optimistic, but only an idiot would consider his situation one worth being happy about it. The doctors were completely clueless as to how to treat spectral diseases, and they knew it. They did try – oh, did they try. They scanned him with radiation detectors, lest this be some kind of radiation rather than spectral energy (of course, it was spectral, so that did nothing). They took blood samples and carefully analysed them, seeing if there was any mutation or infection. They looked over his acne extensively every day and took samples of that, trying to see why they were so unnatural. Optometrists were brought in to examine his eyes and see why they had changed shades. Extensive tests were run at least once a week, Vlad was taken downstairs to work out every day to see if his strength was weakening from the contamination, his temperature was constantly checked – everything possible was done. But it all amounted to nothing. All they got out of his blood was that his plasma was now a yellow-green colour and that the molecular structure of his blood cells had been slightly altered to be more sensitive to certain energy wavelengths (of which they were unable to produce with any of their technology). His strength did not weaken. The optometrists couldn't figure out what was wrong with his eyes. His temperature was always a few degrees below normal, but didn't affect his health at all. The tests on his acne revealed no clues as to their abnormal status. Vlad would have helped, but he didn't know a thing about ecto-acne – as he had told Jack, it was his crazy theory, which he had not clued anyone into, and due to Vlad's hesitancy to theorise without more information and his lack of supplies in the hospital, he had little knowledge that would have proven useful.

The few classmates who had befriended him over the years came to visit once and a while, always bringing with them news on what was going on back in college. One piece of news guaranteed that Vlad couldn't get access to anything that would have helped him; in light of his accident, the university had confiscated all of Jack, Vlad, and Maddie's files concerning anything to do with ghost weaponry, design, and theory. Jack had put up a fight, of course, and Maddie had a few things to say about that decision herself. But it had all been taken away. The Proto-Portal itself had been dismantled. A few people had suggested that Vlad ask Jack for help anyway – he had committed all his theories to memory and managed to hide a few files from the university. But Vlad refused. Much as he wanted to get well again, asking Jack for help just wasn't something he was willing to do. Jack would take it as a sign that all was forgotten, and most of Jack's "help" only made things worse. He wouldn't do it.

According to what his visitors told him, life went on at college as it usually did. The testing month had come and gone, with Vlad missing it – he had been predicted to be one of the top students on several of those tests. For the most part, the long-term consequences of his condition had excused him from work, but once and a while someone would bring by some notes or papers from a teacher. He was glad for these – it was at least some relief from the new and unpleasant routine his day-to-day life had. The one (semi) friend he had that had some sort of social status – Harriet Chin – occasionally let him in on some notes on how the social hierarchy was working. Before, Vlad hadn't really cared about that. In fact, he still didn't care. But Harriet loved to talk and report on people, and Vlad made an easy audience (_'Well,'_ he thought, _'that explains why her major is journalism.'_)

The visits he had were touching, but they didn't cheer him up. The one person he really wanted to see, the one person who could make him feel better – Maddie – hadn't come to see him yet. As far as he knew, the only time she'd come to the hospital was the day of the accident. Vlad blamed Jack for this too. He had convinced himself that after their fight, Jack had gone to Maddie for advice and, as was typical of his bumbling self, he had distorted, forgotten, or exaggerated the entire conversation. He had convinced himself that Jack had made him look like a horrible roaring lunatic. And he had convinced himself that because of Jack's idiocy, Maddie was not going to come and see him again. So convinced himself, had he of this fact, that he did not even make inquiries about it when friends came to visit him. As far as he was now concerned, after what Jack's idiocy did to him, there was no limits to what else it could do. And more likely than not, Jack had distorted the story so much that trying to get the truth through to anyone – even someone as intelligent as Maddie – would be impossible. There was no way he was going to see her again. And so he sat up in his hospital bed, going through every day with his routine, making no progress with his ecto-acne problem, and feeling sorry for himself.

On the last day before summer break, everyone who had been visiting him stopped by to see him before heading home. They had all packed over the week before, and had their entire vacations planned out. Some of them shared these plans with Vlad, promising to bring him back something and visit him as soon as they got back. Harriet went into a vivid explanation of how her trip would count as a special project for her senior journalism class – she was going on a cross-country trip, interviewing people about the country about their opinions on the controversy being caused by such movies as _Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom_ and _Gremlins_. Vlad listened to all their stories, though he wished he could tune them out. He didn't tell them, but hearing about all that they had planned for their summers only made him feel worse.

The hospital had offered him the option of transferring to one near his home if he wanted to go back for the summer. But Vlad had no desire to do so. He had come from a small town in northern Wisconsin from a small family. Though they had aspired to a higher class life, he and his family were in the lower middle-class range, their highest social connection being their novelist friend – and she herself wasn't the most successful. There was nothing of interest there and, since his parents had passed away, Vlad felt no ties to the place. His home between the time his parents died and his admittance into college was a ramshackle apartment room that was barely fit for anyone to live in, let alone a poor teenager who had had to sell his old home for financial aid. He also wasn't eager to make any journey looking like he did. And as a practical matter, he couldn't afford any trips. His parents had provided him with an insurance plan that was paying for his hospital fees, but now that he was out of commission from lessons, he didn't have his scholarship money any more. Any kind of trip would have been out of his league. The cold, hard reality of that fact made it even more difficult to swallow.

As they day went on, people began heading out for home, with no new visitors coming in. News had got in through Harriet (_'who else?' _Vlad thought) that Jack had made one last attempt to sneak in and visit Vlad before heading home, but had again been caught. Jack's humiliation did nothing to lighten Vlad's mood. As evening came up and as Vlad was preparing to give up for the day and turn in, a knock came at the door.

"It's open," Vlad said in monotone, not even bothering to turn and look at the door. He was _really_ worn out. The door opened, and the figure walked into the room. They took the chair by the dresser, moved it up towards Vlad's bed, and sat down on it. Vlad finally turned to look at his visitor. His eyes nearly popped out of their sockets, he felt himself shoot straight up in bed, and a huge, dumb grin not unlike Jack's shot across his face.

"Maddie!" he cried, "At last you've come to visit me! Oh, what's kept you, my dear? I was beginning to worry that –" he stopped, his grin fading away. Maddie's expression had a small smile, but her eyes were nervous, wide-open, and deadly serious.

"Hello, Jack," she said weakly, trying to make her smile more warm. It didn't work.

"Something troubling you, Maddie?" Vlad asked.

Maddie shook her head. "No, Vlad," she sighed, "I'm fine," it was clear that she wasn't fine, but it was also clear that she didn't want to talk about it…yet.

"So," she managed to get her smile friendly at last, "how are things going here?"

"Horrible," Vlad scowled, "My doctors wouldn't know anything of a spectral nature if it slapped them in the face, I'm always cold, I still have these blasted bandages all over my face, and I can't solve anything thanks to the school's confiscation of our research! And for all of this I have Jack to thank! Thank you very much, Jack!" he shouted, sarcasm now flowing up into his voice, "Thank you _very_ much!"

"Vlad," Maddie sighed, "that's kind of what I wanted to talk to you about," Vlad's shoulders slumped.

"Must we?" he moaned.

"Vlad, you two have been friends for years," Maddie said in a very astute, matter-of-fact way, "you can't just ignore him over an accident, even if it was rather…significantly scarring. Jack really is sorry."

"Yes," Vlad's eyes narrowed, "Well, 'sorry' doesn't repair the damage or bring back my life!"

"Come on, Vlad," Maddie stared him right in the eye, "one accident in the lab isn't going to ruin your life…"

"Maddie, look around you!" Vlad yelled, throwing his arms up above his head, "I'm in the hospital, I'm subjected to tests, workouts and routines every day, my face is wrapped up like a mummy, my hair's like someone half my age, I've missed the rest of the school year, and I can't see y…" he caught himself. He wanted to say it – oh, how he wanted to say it – but he couldn't. He chickened out, "…_Your Camper and Mine_. It's my favourite TV show," he laughed nervously. Maddie sighed yet again.

"Vlad, you can catch up on all of that once you're out of here! They'll have to find a cure sometime! You and Jack are like brothers! You can't let something like this ruin your friendship."

"No?" Vlad raised an eyebrow, "Then let me add to the reasons! He's a bumbling moron, he constantly ruined all of our inventions, the backwash incident, and now that I'm stuck in here, he's free to steal y…" he caught himself again.

'_Say it,'_ he thought in his head, _'Say it!'_ but he couldn't.

"…Yams," he threw out his lame excuse, "he's free to steal all of the yams in our refrigerator. They're my favourite fruit."

"Vlad," Maddie said, her voice a bit more annoyed than before, "you let all that stuff slide before, and it's ridiculous to use them to justify your behaviour now!"

"Well maybe this little accident was the breaking point I needed to see just how much of an idiot Jack truly is! As far as I'm concerned, he and I are through – _**forever!**_" the entire room seemed to shake at his final scream. It was only a few moments too late that Vlad realised just how forcefully he yelled, how he was now out of bed and looming over Maddie, and how she had scooted back in the chair and that her face now held a look of shock, fear, and something bordering on disgust.

"Oh…" Vlad quickly sat back down again, trying to undo the shock, "I'm sorry, Maddie, I…"

"Yeah," she quickly interrupted, "Look…I'm gonna go. I'm leaving early tomorrow to visit my sister in Arkansas and I made plans for tonight already," as she said this she got up out of the chair and pushed it back against the wall. Vlad was beating himself up in his head for blowing it, but he had to try and get her to stay a bit longer.

"Do you have to leave so soon?" he pleaded, "What do you have plans for tonight anyway?" Maddie paused for a moment. Then…

"Jack and I are going out for dinner," Vlad let his expression contain itself to that of mild shock, but a house full of fireworks seemed to go off in his mind, "I'll…I'll see you later. Goodbye, Vlad," she opened the door and walked out. Vlad stared after her for several minutes, his expression not changing and the fireworks not ceasing their crazy dance around his mind. Finally, it all snapped. He didn't fully realise it, but it all came crashing down. A single firework from his mind jumped down his spine and through his nerves, sending his legs into a furious shake. The very next firework did the same to his torso. A third firework had his arms trembling in fury. And his face slipped underneath the bandages into the most horrible grimace he had ever worn in his life.

"Out…with…Jack?!" he hissed, "Out…with…_**JACK!!!!**_" his voice again shook the room, and his left hand went flying up into a fist an collided hard against the wall above his bed, sending a shockwave throughout his room and leaving several cracks in the plaster. He had slammed his eyes shut in his rage, hissing his breaths through clenched teeth and tearing at his covers with his right hand. His eyes being closed, and his fury blinding him to all but the knowledge that Maddie was out with Jack, he couldn't have noticed that his body was now outlined in a haunting, ghostly glow.


	4. Ghostly Manifestation

The summer months that followed that year would forever be a blur to Vlad. The knowledge that Jack and Maddie had gone out together, whether it was platonic or something more, seemed to ignite some fire inside him that refused to cool even the slightest bit. It did nothing to help him from feeling cold – in fact, it only seemed to make him colder – and it didn't help him get any better, but he couldn't and wouldn't let it go. If there had been any hope for him and Jack to get back together before the fire started up, it had burned away in an instant.

The flame did leave one other impact on him other than escalating his hatred for Jack into something larger than Mount Everest – it had him working. No longer did he look upon his routines as a hinderance, and no longer did he go though them without any real effort. He went completely mad in pushing himself as hard as he could at all the workouts and tests the doctors had him do, took all the medications and treatments they recommened exactly as they recommended, got himself the healthiest meals he possibly could (and when you're going on hospital food, that is quite the achievement), and spent his evening hours throwing himself around his room in any kind of difficult acrobatic movement he could make up. None of this helped him recover any faster, and he was damn well aware of that. But it made him feel like he was doing something to help himself get well. It made him feel like he could get well. That had become the only thought that the fire would allow in his mind. To get well. To get out of the hospital. To find Maddie and make up with her. And to get back at Jack. He didn't know how, when, where, or what with, but he was determined to pay back everything that Jack had done to him. Jack ruined his life – fine then. He would ruin his. He appeared to be stealing Maddie – he'd steal her back. He scarred his face for life – he'd just scar Jack's psyche for life. They say "an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth," and that was Vlad's new philosophy.

Vlad had not shared the reasons for his new steely resolve with his doctors – he doubted it would be wise to share them with anyone. Consequently, his doctors now had to worry about that along with all of the questions posed by his ailments. They had made absolutely no progress in figuring out what exactly Vlad's acne was made up of or how to get rid of it, the optomitrist had had no luck with his eyes, and his temperature still stayed below normal. His newfound determination had them running KAT scans and tests on his brain to see if the contamination had started to affect his mind, but of course, they found nothing wrong. A baffling situation on their end had suddenly gotten a lot worse.

These new tests and lack of results affected Vlad far worse than they should have, even if he was now putting his all intro them. It seemed that there was one other thing that came with the flame inside him – an extreme impatience and a demand for results. Through all his sweat, all his work, all the bandages still wrapped around his head, he was seething with rage that the doctors had still uncovered nothing. He had held his tongue so far, but at the end of the upcoming week, he resolved to make inquiries during his weekly report.

Every Saturday night, the doctor in charge of Vlad's treatment came in and gave him a report on what had been done over the week and what his condition now looked like. The man had giant glasses that made him look like an owl, and his voice was so dull he made Ben Stein look like an international opera star. Mix that together with reports that tended to be the same week after week and month after month, and one's Saturday nights tend to look more than a bit depressing. Tonight proved to be no exception.

"…So as you can see, Mr. Masters," the doctor was wrapping up, his drab voice seeming to echo across the room, "We have once again run all of our various tests on you, and we still have yet to crack the mystery of your most extraordinary case of ecto-acne. Any questions?" Vlad prepared himself. Now was the time to make inquiries.

"No questions at all," he hissed, sarcasm lining his voice like fine lace, "especially since this is the same report you've given me for almost the entire last five months! Haven't you been able to figure anything out yet!? You're a doctor, for pete's sake! Show some effort!" the doctor's bored expression didn't change.

"That's a very good question, Mr. Masters," he said after a few seconds rolled by, "It reminds me of a few I often get, such as 'why can't we develop a cure for cancer?' or 'why can't we stop male pattern baldness,' or one that I ask myself, 'why is there nothing invented by a doctor that can get me a date after twenty years spending Saturday nights with my complaining patients?'" his last sentence held just the faintest trace of mockingness in it through all the drab. Vlad sent out a deadly flash from his eyes at him. Sensing that perhaps he had gone a bit too far, the doctor got serious (or, as serious as one with a voice like that could sound).

"In all honesty, Mr. Masters, I would love to tell you that we had a new miracle cure that we developed that would cure everything that has gone wrong for you and would allow you to leave and be free, but we don't. We have no idea how to treat ghost-related ailments, and we don't have the right tools to figure out how. I apologise, but that's how it's been for that past few months, and that's how it's looking to stay."

"Then why not bring in someone who does know what they're doing concerning ectoplasmic ailments!?" Vlad snarled.

"You know, we have tried contacting a few paranormalists. There's one who lives here in Wisconsin, but when we contacted him about your condition, he proceeded to laugh at us, called us all crazy, and hung up. When we contacted him again, saying that your friend Mr. Fenton…"

"_Former_ friend," Vlad hissed.

"…That your _former_ friend Mr. Fenton had a theory on ecto-acne, he called him a crackpot and hung up again," Vlad commended whoever this paranormalist was for the crack at Jack, but even that couldn't quell his anger at not having someone around who knew what they were doing with ghosts.

"Anyone else?" he demanded.

"We've been calling around. Apparently your case is new to the paranormal world as well, since everyone keeps giving us the same response. There was one in London who said he believed us and would take a look at you, but he said he's unable to make it down from England until September. He requested that you remain here until he arrives."

"No worries there," Vlad grunted. This was just perfect. Stuck in the hospital until September with more of the same lack of progress. He wanted to get cured!

"I do feel rather badly for you, so I've arranged to let you get a TV in here in time for the Packers game. I was told by one of your friends you were a fan of the team, and I believe that the game's on tomorrow at eight. Any other questions?" Vlad shook his head, not looking at the doctor, "Very well then. See you later, Mr. Masters," he walked out of the room. Vlad laid back down on the bed, sighing. With more of these reports and the knowledge that real help was still so far away, it was going to be a very long time until September.

"Well," he sighed yet again, "at lease I'll get to watch the Packers."

---

"Oh, come on!" Vlad yelled at the screen in front of him, "What kind of call is that!?" it was now past nine in Wisconsin. As promised, Vlad had been given his TV earlier that day. It was rather small and it didn't have the best reception, but he could see the image. At eight o' clock, he came charging up from his after-dinner workout in the gym, diving into his room, onto the bed, and dragging himself over to turn on the TV. After a bit of channel surfing, he found the game (the TV didn't pick up many channels, so it wasn't particularly hard to find). Since then, he has spent the past hour of the evening screaming at his television screen as the Packers, playing the visitor to the New England Patriots, suffered injuries, bad plays, and unfair calls (any call against them falling under Vlad's definition of "unfair.") Early on nurses had kept running in, worried that something was wrong, but now, no one bothered. Part of this was that word had gotten around that Vlad was just caught up in the game, and part of it was his rather unpleasant attitude towards them for interrupting the game.

Vlad started to calm down from the call when the next play began. The Patriots had the ball, but no sooner had the ball left from the grip of the quarterback than a player on the Packers leapt over and intercepted the ball. Even with them as the visiting, a fair portion of the crowd rose up in applause. Vlad nearly leapt up out of bed with all his hollering and delight. The interceptor went charging up the field, dodging the linemen and eyeing the the touchdown line. The announcer was screaming his progess as the play went on and he passes the 30-yard line…the 20…the 10…and then, up from behind, a lineman leapt forward and brought him crashing to the ground.

"**NO!!**" Vlad howled, throwing his hands up into the air in fists and staring up at he ceiling, and enraged look on his face, "Curse that lousy, no good…" a strange humming sound shot out below him, and he immediately silenced himself. An explosion of cold seemed to overtake his body, but it wasn't an uncomfortable, chilling cold. It wasn't like any kind of cold he had ever felt before. It was like his body had been filled up with air from the winter and had somehow adjusted itself to not start breaking into goosebumps or shivers. A curious feeling had also overcome him at the waist, as if some strange energy was radiating itself around him. The humming sound was coming from his waist. Vlad could feel the sensation creeping along his body in both directions, the humming sound splitting in two, one echo getting louder while the other moved away. He still hadn't looked down, so he was looking up when a glowing ring of pure white energy tinged with blue passed over his head and up his arms. As it passed, it left a white glowing outline along his body – almost like a ghost.

Slowly Vlad lowered his hands and looked down. His entire body seemed alive with cold and and a strange energy racing though his veins. Outside, his entire body held the ghostly outline, from his hands up to his shoulders and down to his legs. He could also feel a change in the way the bandages felt on his face. They seemed to be a bit more loose, and the way the felt on his face was smoother than it had felt in months.

"What the…" Vlad raised his hands to his face and pressed down on the bandages. He could feel no pulsating pimples underneath, no clumps of ecto-acne creating hideous protrusions. It felt…normal. Could he be…he had to look for himself. The game now the last thing on his mind, he got out of bed and headed over to his dresser to pick up a mirror. Only…his feet weren't touching the ground. He looked down and found himself…_floating_. Yes, floating. Vlad now gulped. This could now end up as both a blessing and a curse. He floated over to the dresser, where the mirror lay face down. With a deep breath, he tore off his bandages with his right hand and picked up the mirror with his left. He nearly dropped it out of shock.

His ecto-acne was gone. There were no pulsating zits, no strange sprouting pimples, no oily disfiguration – it was completely gone. His hands trembling, Vlad set his right hand up against his face, feeling to see if this wasn't all some strange dream or illusion. He had a bit of a beard going from the last few months, but otherwise the skin on his face was smooth, free of any blemishes whatsoever. Beyond that, his hair was back to its original colour. No longer did it look like had gotten hair transplants from a man of 65. It was even darker than it had been originally – it was now jet-black rather than the lighter shade he originally had. With these blessings, however, came the curse. His face also held the ghostly outline of the rest of his body, and his eyes were once again in a hot blue glow. As he stared at his eyes in the mirror, he came to realise just how much he had begun shaking, how his breaths were hissing in through clenched teeth, and how the glow in his eyes was bright enough that the mirror reflected the light up to the ceiling.

Suddenly, his entire left arm seemed to vanish before his eyes. It completely disappeared. He could still feel it attached to his body, but it felt lighter than air. The mirror, now floating in mid-air, dropped back onto the dresser. He could actually feel it passing through his hand as it fell. It didn't hurt; it was as if water was pouring through his hand; but the pure shock of it had him jumping back, his feet finally touching ground. No sooner had they, however, than his entire lower body seemed to become a glowing white outline filled in with a tinged, transparent dark blue. As though he were plunging into a pool where the water passed through his body, Vlad fell into the floor, frantically clawing at it with his arms to keep himself from falling all the way down. He continued to sink, his upper body starting to turn intangible as well.

'_Get up,'_ Vlad concentrated, _'Get up…fly up…fly –'_ where that last thought came from he didn't know, and he didn't understand it, but his reflexes did. His body suddenly went up into the air again, his form turning tangible as quickly and unexpectedly as it had gone intangible before. Vlad had just started racking his brain with questions about that when a white-blue ring shot out from his middle, the cold again flowing continuously from around his body and a strange sensation overtaking him where the rings hovered. This time, however, they seemed to be taking away the energy rather than giving it to him. The ring split in two, one moving up his body, the other moving down towards his toes. As they passed, the strange radiating energy went with them, and the outline on his body went away. When the rings completed their pass, his face felt uneven once again, and he dropped to the floor with a thud. Scrambling to his feet, he ran over to the dresser and picked up the mirror. His ecto-acne had returned, his eyes no longer glowed, and his hair was again white as snow. He felt dismayed at the return of his disfigurations, but it was far from the worst horror on his mind right now.

The energy that had just overtaken him seemed familiar. He had experienced once before – when the blast from the Proto-Portal had hit his face. His eyes, his face's return to its original appearance, the glow around his body, and his sudden masteries of flight, invisibility, and intangibility all matched up to things that he had discovered, Maddie had proven, or Jack had theorised. He may have been jumping to conclusions, but at the moment, there was only one explanation that made sense to him. He hated the thought. He tried to deny it with every once of his brain that hadn't accepted the explanation. He desperately searched for another. But it kept coming back. He had somehow, through that blast, absorbed spectral energy into his system. With his anger as the trigger, it had manifested itself. He, Vlad Masters, who had vowed to go into ghost hunting after college – he was a _ghost_.

Vlad was barely aware of himself backing up to his bed and sitting down. He was barely aware of how raspy his breathing had become. And he was barely aware of the Packer's amazing touchdown play taking place on the screen. The full knowledge of just how much Jack had done to him was seeping through every vein in his body, pouring out from his eyes, and setting his hands into a tremble. The flame inside him, still plenty hot, had gone into the highest blaze it had reached ever since it began. And suddenly, with a lurch and a throw of his head up skyward, Vlad let out the longest, loudest, hateful scream that he would ever utter in his life.


	5. No Cure and Window of Opprotunity

The months before September crept along slowly, taking its sweet time in reaching Green Bay. As time passed through the doors of the hospital, it seemed to grow even slower, going from inching its way along to moving in centimetres. By the time it managed to enter Vlad's hospital room, it crawled along at a rate of one millimetre per minute. And unfortunately, the recently increased burdens on Vlad's conscience did nothing to help time pass any faster.

The knowledge that he was now at least part ghost gripped him like the first blizzard of winter grips the whole of the Arctic. It was with him with every breath he took, every step he made, every bite he made to eat, every gulp of liquid that went down his throat. It was with him when he ate, when he worked out, while he slept, when he read, when he talked, in his dreams…it had completely gotten hold of him. No matter what he did or where he let his mind wander, there was no escaping the fact. And this knowledge only served as fuel for the fire inside him against Jack.

His newfound powers were sporadic, unpredictable, and when they manifested themselves, very difficult to control. They came forth mostly when he was tired, unfocused, or angry. Unfortunately, though he was rarely unfocused and was only tired at the end of the day, he was losing his temper more and more easily these days. The increased flame inside him had again heightened his impatience, causing him to explode over little things like biting his tongue or the malfunction of a remote. He would steam up in fury at jokes made by fellow patients or when machines in the gym failed to work. His efforts to restrain himself only seemed to heighten the problem. The full manifestation of his powers – the blue rings encircling him and changing his appearance – happened rarely, and ironically was the easiest thing to control, though that wasn't saying much. Constantly, however, his arms were going intangible, things fell through his grip, his eyes flashed, and always was he phasing through floors and going invisible. His foot was falling through treadmills, weights fell out of his hands and onto his feet, he fell over on walls he was leaning against – there was no end to it. He had to constantly be on his toes, avoiding being seen and thinking up fast excuses to explain problems his powers caused when anyone caught him at an awkward moment. As time went on, this quick demand on his wits added to the exhaustion caused by his physical exercise, increasing the number of times his powers acted up. Things may have been bad for him before, but now he was truly caught in a place where sunshine, joy, and the possibility of things working out your way did not exist.

As with his reasons for committing himself to his treatment, Vlad kept his powers a secret from his doctors. His obsession over getting well was not without its limits. The biggest of those limits was fear – the fear of being turned into a mutant lab experiment. He had spent countless hours trying to build devices that could capture ghosts so he could study and experiment with one himself, but the notion of his own being having to be hooked up to monitoring systems and test tubes and being put through his paces was not a comforting thought. No matter if revealing his powers could speed up the process of recovery – which he doubted – even that wasn't worth the risk.

Still, he could not keep the doctors from noticing anything new to the complex puzzle of his ailments. The week after his powers first manifested themselves, they had picked up on something during Vlad's usual treatments and workouts. His temperature had dropped down another few degrees and had stayed there, never rising and occasionally dipping down even lower. His blood plasma was now pure green, his white blood cells had turned blue, and his red blood cells all held a strange white glow. Their sensitivity to certain wavelengths of energy had increased, and the doctors still couldn't duplicate those wavelengths with their technology. His basic molecular structure, even on an unfocused microscope, held a green tint to it. And they could scarcely fail to notice that Vlad could no longer be trusted to avoid "dropping" anything made of glass or other fragile objects. These new symptoms prompted the return of the CAT scans, radiation scanners, and the administration of special medications. Besides increasing the amount of things on his treatment schedule (and in the case of the medication, give him severe pains in his digestive system overnight), Vlad gained little from these additions.

Calls were put through to London several times to see if the paranormalist hired would consent to come out sooner than expected, but his schedule would not allow it. He had been commissioned to take down several instances of haunting throughout the United Kingdom over the summer, and his time in between jobs was often taken up by establishing new appointments. On top of all that, his finances made foreign travel difficult until near September. The doctors understood, but Vlad was not sympathetic to the man's work schedule or his financial arrangements. He had never met this paranormalist, and he already hated him for not getting out here right away. Damn it, he wanted to get out of here! Anything that delayed his recovery he now loathed with a passion. Now more than ever, he wanted to get out of here to give Jack what he deserved. It had almost eclipsed his desire to win back Maddie. After seeing the full extent of the disease Jack had inflicted on him, Vlad was hell-bound on making him beg for mercy. If, on the day he was cured his powers couldn't fully leave them, he would use them to ruin Jack. He'd use the same curse that Jack had put on him to tear down his life. He had begun planning it all out. How he would reveal himself to Jack again, how he would disclose all that had happened, what he would do…the time and place were never the same, but it was with him everywhere just like the knowledge of his new powers, from his morning meals to his dreams. He kept seeing him bringing Jack to his knees, repaying every damage done to him, every insult to injury. And always at the end of it, there was Maddie…

The days until September turned into weeks. Those weeks then turned into months as time continued to crawl along at it's millimetre-a-minute rate. Vlad kept himself going, his thoughts of Maddie and revenge keeping him at it. He waited as best he could, though it wasn't easy on him or his powers. The summer moved along outside, heat and storms rising and falling as the months went on. Come August, college kids were returning to campus, his old classmates now in their senior year. They hadn't forgotten him entirely over the summer. Letters had been sent to him from their homes and vacation spots – several by Jack, but those were thrown out – and his old teachers had sent him some brainteasers to keep his mind sharp. As before during the past months, these were touching, but they did nothing to quell his troubles. Since he had last seen her, he had had no contact with Maddie. That alone prevented any notice from anyone back at campus from doing him any good.

Now that everyone was back, they began visiting him in person rather than letters. Harriet was the first to visit, reading through the article she had written over the summer at least fifteen times (Vlad fell asleep after that, so she may have read it a few more times), always stopping after to explain that it had already put her at the head of her senior journalism class and had been published in a Hollywood newspaper (which one, Vlad didn't remember – she seemed to have mentioned at least three during her constant re-tellings). Others brought gifts from their vacations and wild stories of what they had been up to. As with their visits the last day before summer break began, Vlad wished he could tune them out – hearing their stories only added to his misery. As the school year picked up, visits became less frequent – the teachers apparently weren't showing any mercy. Vlad also suspected that it was hard to maintain friendships with one whom had been locked up in a hospital all summer. He also suspected Jack was partly behind it with his versions of what had went on. No matter how ridiculous it seemed, Vlad found himself blaming Jack for many things.

Throughout all these visits, only one piece of news arrived from Maddie. It was in the form of a letter Harriet brought during her first week back:

_Dear Vlad,_

_Hope you're well. Jack and I are fine. Summer was lovely. Hope you were able to have some fun. Jack's still not giving up on your friendship._

_Love,_

_Maddie_

Vlad held onto that little note like it was a page from the very first Bible, but the letter's far too quick briefness and it's focus on Jack stung him like a nest of wasps. Just how far was she from him? How close had she and Jack gotten? That little note's hidden plea to make up with Jack made such reconciliation more impossible than ever, and only increased the problems with his powers. Just two days after receiving the note, he was forever banned from handling anything made of glass in the hospital.

The days and weeks dragged on, the time between August and September dragging even slower if that were at all possible. Visits continued to become less frequent, and outside the hospital the first signs of autumn began springing up before the season arrived in full. Then, finally, the news arrived – the paranormalist had left London and would arrive on September the 17th. The doctors were flat-out rejoicing – at last _someone_ who knew what they were doing could look into this! Vlad, while still not forgiving this soon-to-be-revealed scientist for not making it out here in time, was pretty enthusiastic himself, and doubled his efforts in the rest of his treatments. This got his powers acting up a bit more, but at long last he could ignore even that.

The final days were the slowest. Vlad counted every second of every minute, his body trembling in suspense. He had to have walked through at least twenty-seven walls those last days from his powers jumping around in impatient anticipation. The clock slowly ticked by, second by second, hour by hour. Then, finally, the day was at hand. The hour came at one o' clock in the afternoon. Doctors were running out front to the car to welcome him in while Vlad struggled to keep himself calm enough to maintain some control over his powers. The paranormalist had arrived.

His name was William Scar. He was a tall pale man with dark brown hair slicked back on his head and a goatee. He wore a green shirt with brown pants and black shoes. Appropriately enough, his face had a haunted, sickly look to it, with dark circles around his eyes and skin so pale that it looked as though he'd never seen sunlight. He had brought with him only a small black handbag to hold his tools in for the job His voice was like that of a depressed Jeremy Irons, with a deep Shakespearean quality to it. His voice's ability to portray such a sound was rather remarkable, as he rarely used it. He had barely introduced himself when he entered Vlad's room, shut the door, opened up his handbag, and went to work.

His tools were remarkably low-tech, though that shouldn't have come as much of a surprise. Paranormal science had never been taken seriously and had never been given proper funding. Spectral energy was also extremely difficult to trace and obtain, so fuel for the few tools available to paranormalists was in short supply. The equipment was simple, cheap, and the results varied. All of the high-tech, outlandish devices Vlad and Jack had dreamed up on blueprint had been meant to solve these problems, but there was no point in bringing that up now. Jack guaranteed that they never worked anyway, and they'd never been able to afford anything other than blueprints for those on the market, so seeing any tools at all was a bit of an experience for Vlad. Scar had a spectral scanner, a strange type of injection gun, an ectoplasmic radiator, two power cells, a strange machine with several wires attached (all of which ended in little clips), a small container of blue ectoplasm, a simple magnifying glass, a pair of white latex gloves, and some things that weren't used for any type of science at all. They were spiritual devices from different cultures. The first tool he employed was one of these, a medallion with a sapphire crystal imbedded in it. He ticked it back and forth at his eye level along the length of Vlad's body, like a hypnotist trying to put someone into a trance with a watch. He did this for a few minutes, then gazed into the crystal intently. He sighed, as though he had seen something of a negative nature, then set the medallion down and reached for his other tools.

The examination took the entire day. All of the spiritual devices were put into use first. After looking over him with the crystal, Scar opened up three cases of powder – green, blue, and red. He took a handful of all three one by one and sprinkled it over Vlad's body. Other than causing him to go into a somewhat violent sneezing fit, Vlad didn't see what this was meant to do, but Scar apparently did. When the blue powder had rested for a few minutes and he looked over Vlad, he again let out a mournful sigh. After the green powder had sat for a while, his face twisted into an expression of pure horror. After the red powder had settled, he relaxed a bit, though his eyes held a suspicious glare. Vlad considered asking about what the powders were meant for, but he thought it unwise. The faster this went, the faster he'd get an idea on when or if he could be cured.

After the powders, scar employed a long stick with a macharena and mango tied on the end of it. Besides that, it bore a slight resemblance to the stick of an African shaman. He shook it over Vlad's head for a minute, then unceremoniously tossed it over his shoulder, showing no signs that he had gained anything from using the stick. Vlad felt more than slightly annoyed at the action apparently done for no reason, but managed to keep himself under control. Scar now reached for a small, finely woven Indian dream catcher. This little spiritual device held some signs of technology – little stubs with green tops had been inserted into the wooden loop around the weavings.

"Put your hand through this," Scar said in his mournful voice, holding the dream catcher out in front of Vlad. After a moment's hesitation, Vlad complied, fitting his fingers in through the weaving. Immediately, the green tops began glowing as soon as his fingers passed through. Smoothly and quickly, not catching any of his patient's fingers, Scar pulled the dream catcher away, setting it down and shaking his head.

What…" Vlad was cut off by a wave of the paranormalist's hand. Now he was getting a bit tired of all these little tests with answers in the air but not out for him to know, and his expression was showing it. Scar seemed to take no mind to this. He picked up his spectral scanner and ran it over Vlad's body three times. He then lifted it up to his face and hit some buttons on its front. The screen on the scanner lit up, casting an eerie green glow on Scar's face. He sighed again, set the tool down, and continued with the examination. He would run the scanner over Vlad three more times before the day was done, with several hours in between each time. The first time he repeated the exercise, he attached one power cell to it, which changed the glow emitted from the screen from green to blue. The second time, he attached the other power cell, which created a faint red glow to emit from the screen. The final time, at the end, he inserted both cells, which brought forth all three glows, of which green was the most prominent, red the least.

The time in between the three scans took up the rest of the day, Scar performing all sorts of strange tests and rituals that tried Vlad's patience. They weren't very surprising. Besides the spiritual devices and the machine with the wires, Vlad knew about every kind of test Scar was performing. They were paranormalicy basics, and he had read about them countless times. But they were never as effective as they were meant to be and getting anything out of them could take hours on end. Vlad had assumed that Scar was a skilled paranormalist due to his busy schedule throughout the summer (for which he still hadn't forgiven him), but he didn't really know anything about him or his record, and the fact that he added in all his little spiritual rituals that didn't seem to do anything wasn't helping Vlad relax any. He put up with it as best he could, but it was getting harder and harder as they day went on.

After his first spectral scan, Scar pulled out a notebook and pen from his briefcase and spent several minutes jotting down notes. He kept doing that as the day progressed and his tests went on. He repeated several tests, and a few times went out and asked a nurse to bring up an ordinary doctor's tool. He never used these right when he got them, but saved them for later. Sometimes it took him two hours to get to using them. All the doctor's tools he used for checking Vlad's eyes, ears, and temperature.

Some of his tests would have been considered unusual and rather disturbing to patients who didn't know how spectral materials worked. After having Vlad take off his bandages, Scar prepared to try a test on his ecto-acne. He put on his gloves and dipped his fingers into the small container of ectoplasm he had. He then began rubbing the ectoplasm down on Vlad's forehead rather hardly. It felt like something was dissolving on his skin and wasn't very comfortable, but Vlad put up with it. After Scar finished, Vlad felt his forehead. The acne was…gone. The ectoplasm had dissolved it. His hand would have started trembling in excitement if it hadn't gotten slapped away so Scar could examine the area of his forehead. A few moments later, a sickening bubbling sound and a grimy feeling overcame that spot, and the acne was back, so there was nothing to celebrate anyway.

The tests, rituals, and notes kept going on in between the three spectral scans. All the while, Scar never touched his wired machine. It seemed like it had just been brought out to appear like he had more equipment. But at seven o' clock that evening, after he had done the final spectral scan and jotted down the results in his notebook, he reached for it and set it down on his lap.

"You'll have to take your shirt off for this," he said dryly. By now, Vlad's mood had turned very sour towards Scar, and his looks and mannerisms had begun showing it. Still, he had a feeling that perhaps they were getting towards the end of this nonsense and that answers would be coming soon. With a slight look of annoyance, he took off his shirt and lay down on the bed. Scar then attached the clips to his body. They pinched his skin and hurt like hell, but the most he did was grunt a little. Scar began turning little knobs on the top of the machine, completely absorbed in it as though he were reading a classic novel. Then he slammed down on the button in the centre. An explosion of cold and energy immediately flooded Vlad's body through the clips, letting loose a yelp from his throat and sending his body into a violent spasm. This cold was chilling, and he could feel goosebumps rolling all along his spine. The energy was cackling throughout his nerves like lightning. It didn't seem like it would stop, and seemed to grow worse and Scar adjusted one of the larger knobs. It grew worse and worse, and soon Vlad could have sworn he saw electric sparks leaping out of his body. Suddenly he felt the cold from his powers rush over him, and the blue-white rings he had watched so carefully shot out around his middle. Scar's eyes seemed to leap out of his skull as he immediately shut down the machine, jumping back and letting the device fall onto his chair. The rings immediately disappeared and the shocks subsided, though with his wind gone and the pain still in his nerves, Vlad felt far from well.

"Oh, my…" Scar's voice was barely above a whisper, yet it held more shock and emotion than he had expressed the entire time he was here. His hand shaking, he stumbled over to his notebook, frantically jotting down observations, realisations, and little bits of notes. Vlad, still gasping for breath, now was past the point of restraint. It was time for answers.

"Would you mind," he spat, yanking the clips off (the sting reminded him a bit too late that they were attached to his skin), "telling me what all of this has been for!?" Scar didn't answer. He also seemed to be catching his breath from what he had just seen or found out. A few minutes of silence save for their breathing passed. Finally, the paranormalist stood up and turned to face his patient.

"I'll be right back," he said, his voice still holding some shock, "I need to check something. I'm afraid this changes everything," shaking his head, he took his notebook and headed out the room, leaving Vlad to wait.

---

Almost fifteen minutes passed before Scar returned. He had regained his composure, though he looked even paler if that were at all possible. He walked back over to his chair slowly, set down his notebook, and turned to face Vlad, who was gripping his bed sheets and grinding his teeth in impatience.

"I'm afraid I have some grave news for you, Mr. Masters," the paranormalist said grimly. Vlad immediately froze up. Some answers were here at last, but that sentence did not seem to suggest anything positive.

"When I was first told of your condition," Scar went on, "I did not entirely believe it. Ecto-acne is not a documented paranormal condition, and no one has ever succeeded in tapping into the spectral foundation of the ghost dimension before. But I have a policy of looking into anything that may yield new knowledge about the paranormal, so I put aside my speculation and decided to look into your case. So as soon as I could, I came, which brings us today. From the very start of your tests when I used my medallion on you, I knew that you had indeed contracted some serious spectral ailment, though I was still sceptical that it came from a portal into the ghost dimension. I'm still sceptical about that. But as this day has gone on, it has become clear to me that you had to have been exposed to a large and powerful source of spectral energy for an infection of this magnitude to occur…"

"_Oh!_" Vlad couldn't take anymore suspense, "What _is_ it, already!?" Scar's eyes flashed something that might have been annoyance – it was too vague to say for sure, and it passed as quickly as it came. After a moment's pause that was a bit longer than it needed to be, he continued.

"…Whatever the trigger was, it set off a large wave of spectral energy that left your face in disrepair. However, it did far worse than that. The angle at which it hit you and the amount of energy set off allowed the ectoplasm to enter your nose and mouth and get into your skin and bloodstream through your pores. The contamination was so severe that it got into your basic molecular structure. Once in there, it began rearranging your DNA and infused itself into your biological material. Your natural human immune system tried to fight off the foreign invasion, of course, but you had received too much energy for it to be forced out of your body entirely. I honestly don't know how you survived. Such a contamination of one's molecular structure from the material of the departed should have killed you. Somehow, though, your human structure and the spectral energy compromised one another, and every molecule in your body was divided between the spectral and the living. Your face, being the recipient of the initial blast, was left in its current condition, but the rest of your body was split in two. In a sense, you've become…" he stopped for a moment, as if seeing if Vlad wanted to hear the rest of it. His expression showed that he did.

"…You've become half-ghost," Vlad stared at Scar with a mixed look of shock and rage. For one thing, he couldn't understand how the hell he had gotten all of that from any of the tests he did (of which none involved taking samples of his tissue), but he already _knew_ everything he had just said. The details on how and why he hadn't pieced together, and he hadn't known just how "ghost" he was before, but he had figured out the basic fact from the first time his powers manifested themselves. He had _known_ everything already!

"So…" Vlad managed to get out through an intake of air, desperately trying to gain control of his anger, "…I'm half-ghost. Now _what's the cure?_" Scar stared at him with a weary look for a moment. Then, closing his eyes, he sighed and shook his head.

"There is no cure."

Four simple monosyllabic words, but they tore through Vlad's soul like a rapier.

"_What?_" he hissed out in a horrified whisper. Scar sighed again.

"This case is unprecedented in any field of science, and especially in paranormalicy. Whatever you and your comrades were up to, you may well have set off the largest release of spectral energy ever caused by the living. That's a power that…I don't even know if it should exist at all. What could come through with it from the ghost dimension…" he gasped, as though his thoughts had just painted a picture too horrible to even consider, "In any case, its effect on you makes no sense whatsoever. As I said, it should have killed you, and instead it's infused you with enough spectral energy to grant you the full powers of a ghost. And it was just a blast to your face. Had it been an even greater area of your body that had been exposed, you would have either been disintegrated or you would have gained so much power that, as the years went on, could have manifested itself into something I dare not think about. In any case, you already have more spectral power than any other being I've ever encountered, alive or dead. That also makes no sense – you should be weaker than a pure ghost. There's too many facets of your case and too many unknown factors. It would be impossible for me to even begin to think of an antidote, let alone a full cure," he sighed once again, now looking very tired and world-worn, "I'm sorry, Mr. Masters. I came here expecting to find something that could have ended up being laughable. I was not prepared for this," the apology and the man's only-too-human limits did not quell Vlad's rage. All that time, all the wasted months, all the suspense, all the anticipation – for _this_!? He couldn't take any more. He was seething with rage. He never wanted to see this man again. Scar's pitiful appearance and humanity meant nothing to him. He was supposed to come out here to cure him, and he had failed. And he never would have been in this mess if it hadn't been for Jack…

"_Sorry!?_" he finally spat, his rage coming full boil, "That's all you can say!? I spent months cooped up in this hospital, watching summer roll by me as I struggled to keep these powers hidden, counting the seconds until you arrived, and all you can say is _sorry_!? What do you expect me to do in this condition with no cure? Stay locked up in this prison, stumbling out of adolescence and into adulthood, desperately trying to get control of my powers!? You were brought out here to cure me! Now what do you have to say for yourself now that you've _failed_!?" Scar looked mournfully into Vlad's burning eyes. He was hurt by what his patient had said, but he tried not to show it. He could understand the younger man's frustration.

"I can't say anything else," he said sadly. He then stood up and began gathering his things together. Vlad just watched him in rage and disbelief. _How_ could this have gone so wrong? He should have had a cure in his hand. He should have been getting ready to sign out of the hospital tomorrow and heading back to school. He should have been preparing for his revenge on Jack. And he should have been seeing Maddie again soon…_what had happened_?

"You said you were keeping your powers hidden," Vlad barely heard Scar's comment, "I'm guessing you still don't want your doctors to know?" Vlad didn't answer him, but Scar felt that he did, "Then I won't tell them. I again can't say how sorry I am that I couldn't be of more help to you but –" he sighed yet again, this one the heaviest of them all, "I'm sorry. _Adieu_, Mr. Masters," with that, Scar slowly headed out the door. Vlad didn't reply. He didn't turn to look at him. He wouldn't. Instead, he fell back down onto his bed, feeling very tired and heavy. It had been a long day, and he had a feeling he wouldn't sleep well that night. He was glad to see Scar go. He had a feeling he would never call on anything the paranormalist had said to him ever again. And he felt himself hating Jack even more. These thoughts kept with him as he slowly closed his eyes and settled under the covers, not even bothering to re-wrap his bandages.

Within moments, he was into dreams of revenge and Maddie.

----

With Scar's examination having come and gone, time seemed to regain a normal – and even a bit quick – pace in the hospital. And with that renewed sense of time came a melancholy atmosphere so thick that one could barely see through it.

Everyone had been disappointed with the results of Scar's examination. Everyone had been so sure that he could cure Vlad. The mere fact that he was a paranormalist and knew _something_ about ghosts had let everyone get carried away in their predictions of what would come of his tests. No one other than Vlad held ill will against the man for not being up to a case that was new even to the world of paranormalicy, though the head doctor did express his disappointment. The staff tried to go on as they always had, but it was difficult. What Scar had found out, he had not really told them. He gave vague hints and notes as to what might be going on, but they could all sense that he was hiding the full truth. They couldn't figure it out, though, and Vlad was in such a sour mood that they didn't dare ask him if he had been told.

Vlad was a ticking time bomb these days. Whatever his temper was like before, it was nothing compared to this. He snarled at people through his bandages down the hallways, he tossed equipment across the gym when it failed to work, he yelled all the time, and he had become very cold to all of the staff that served him. Apparently, Scar's failure had left him feeling bitter towards any kind of doctor. His temperament was getting to the point where he left many people bitter toward him and the doctors worried. Beyond his antics during the daylight hours, howls of anguish and constant jumping and crashing sounds came from his room at night, and occasionally, maniacal laughter could be heard, as though he were in a dream where he was delighting in torturing an old enemy. His change in mood was very drastic, and he was starting to frighten people.

Any chance the staff could get to help him, they took. A psychologist was brought in, but as Vlad failed to tell him anything, that gave little help. Vlad was moved into a more comfortable room to help him relax from the ordeal with Scar and to try and calm his temper. It did neither. Vlad also seemed to be slacking off in his exercises, treatments, and personal grooming, with a beard starting under his acne and his white hair shooting out. It seemed to the doctors that he fact that he could not be cured seemed to crush his spirit in full.

The doctors guessed right, but that was only part of Vlad's problem, and it was the only part he was willing to let them find out. His powers were acting up worse than ever. It wasn't just a matter of his eyes flashing or his getting caught at an awkward moment in the hallways, though those situations were becoming more frequent and more risky. Even if he had somewhat known about the basic structure and origin of his powers before, it wasn't the same thing as really knowing. Now he knew the full extent of his abilities and how ghost-like he had become. When one devotes almost all of one's time to hunting down and fighting something, and in the end, that thing is what he becomes, it tends to eat away at one's nerves. He was frightened of his powers. He was frightened of what they could turn into. And that fear only seemed to feed his powers. He was now able to fly rather than float (though, he had to admit, this did save him the one time he accidentally walked through a wall at the edge of the building and began falling.) When fully transformed, he was able to convert the lower half of his body into a ghostly tail and stretch his body out after making part of it intangible. And, though it never developed into anything else, smoky orbs of green were forming in or around his hands whenever he was particularly angry and in ghost-mode.

The time rolled by and the clocked ticked away, the last remnants of summer closing into the initial splendour of autumn, but soon falling into the bleak later months of the year. Wind, cold, and the lifeless look of the vegetation set in. Visits from campus were growing fewer with each passing month. Schoolwork was likely the main reason, but it was also partly because Vlad's sour attitude had carried over when they came to call. He had been openly rude and uncaring toward them, and he knew it. They told him what they thought of it. It had gotten to the point where only Harriet was visiting him – usually to get an easy audience for her articles. He always felt bad about what he did afterwards, which only aggravated his powers. The strange thing was, even though he admitted to himself that this was his fault, he always found himself blaming Jack.

Jack…it was that name that prompted the maniacal laughter that so terrified the doctors at night. His dreams were filled with his thoughts of revenge now more than ever. It had become so perfectly planned out by now that the place was even set – Jack's home. Where that home was at what time still remained inconsistent, but everything else was there down to the last detail. He would fly in with his ghost powers on a quiet evening and hide in his invisible state, waiting until Jack was all alone in the living room. He would emerge from the shadows in human form, catching Jack by surprise. He would have some fun with him, acting like all was forgotten, discussing how things had been going over the time since the accident. They would begin laughing, and for a moment it would appear that maybe – just maybe – things had worked out. Then he would turn on Jack and go ghost (that was a laughable phrase, but Vlad didn't know how else to describe his transformations). Jack would stumble in his words, but Vlad would always cut him off, describing in an enraged tone everything he had suffered since the accident. The big oaf would beg for mercy, but Vlad would hear none of it. Justice would be served. Then, always, after he had taken care of Jack, at the end of the dream he and Maddie were together. And always, just before their lips met, fate cruelly woke him up and brought him back to his lonely hospital chamber.

Days, weeks, and months rolled by. Before anyone could realise it, November had come. Vlad had started to cool down somewhat – at the very least, he was working again and was grooming himself a bit better. As was inevitable with a case going as long as his, his doctors began to change. His head doctor was put on another case and, seeing no sign of progress with Vlad's, stepped down. The doctor who replaced him was very kind and a lot more energetic, but he brought no progress with him. He did try one idea that should have been obvious from the beginning, but no one had thought of because of the ghost angle – using acne cream. It didn't do anything. The nurses and assistant doctors began changing around as the months went by. Vlad took it all in without any care whatsoever. He was less bitter towards the newer members of his staff, but he had not calmed down enough to forgive the doctors for blundering along without providing any cure or for hiring a paranormalist who did nothing to help him.

November became a blur along with the rest of autumn, and soon the Christmas season was upon them. The hospital was lovingly decorated, with a wonderful tree set up downstairs and tinsel, holly, and mistletoe draping the halls and stairwells. Snow had fallen outside over most of the state from a storm blown down from Canada, letting Mother Nature add her own personal touch to the decorations. With the coming of the season, the gloom leftover from Scar's failure finally started to lift. The doctors and staff finally got back some optimism, and other patients who were worse off than Vlad were smiling and singing. His friends at campus decided to let bygones be bygones and came to visit him once again, dropping off presents and sharing plans for the holiday break before they left for their two weeks' vacation. Vlad himself, hard as he tried to stay bitter and vengeful, actually found himself liking the company and enjoying the season. In fact, for the first time since the accident, he was enjoying his life altogether. The one present he hoped for was a visit from Maddie. He didn't get one, but before she left, Harriet brought him a card that came from Maddie. With great restraint, he managed to keep himself from opening it right away, deciding he would save if for Christmas.

On Christmas morning, everything seemed to be tailor-made to fit the most holy day of the year. The lights had all been plugged in, the halls were free of roaming doctors or transportation of heavy and noisy medical equipment, a light snow had started up outside, and a recording of traditional holiday carols had been set to play quietly over the intercom system. Vlad set his alarm to wake him up at six o' clock in the morning. The earlier he started Christmas, the earlier he could open Maddie's card. With an amount of emotional restraint that surprised even him, he saved Maddie's card for last. The anticipation of getting to that one card was such that he barely noticed that an advanced list of Packers games and a magazine holding an interview with Bart Starr were among his gifts.

After rushing through the majority of his gifts without really looking at them, he made a grab for the card more greedily than a starving man who just found a smoked salmon on a grill. He tore away the envelope over the card and pulled it open so fast it almost snapped down the bend in the middle:

_Dear Vlad,_

_A very merry Christmas to you! Hope you can get well soon. I'm sorry I can't send along more of a gift, but all of our money is being put into something really special and very secret. You'll know about it soon!_

_Happy Holidays!_

_Love,_

Maddie

Vlad read through the letter five times. He then set it down, and immediately picked it back up and read it five more times. After the tenth time, he managed to calm down enough to set the card over by where he kept Maddie's last letter, a strange, dazed smile coming over his face.

"No Jack…" he said in a quiet, pleasantly surprised voice, "A '_very_ merry Christmas,' and no mention of Jack. A surprise in the future, and no Jack! An explanation for no gift, and no…" he stopped in mid-sentence, his smile fading from his face. What did she mean, "_our_ money?"

Reaching down to the floor, he picked up the remnants of the envelope and shook them over his sheets. A small note fell out from the folds, the front of it reading, "From Jack."

Vlad didn't fully grasp what was going on in his mind. He didn't shout. He didn't grind his teeth. His eyes didn't even flash. He just felt his brief joy giving in to the doom and gloom that had filled him up the rest of the year. And, without really seeing it, he tore the note in one quick move.

----

Christmas and the New Year passed on by, and Vlad had turned bitter once more. While his staff made resolutions to try and get to the bottom of this problem, set Scar's failure behind them, and get back to serious work, he resolved to find out just how close Jack and Maddie had gotten and to get his revenge for it.

The winter months rolled on by, the snow rising and melting as the storms and Arctic winds went by. Putting the past behind them didn't help the doctors to speed up Vlad's recovery, and nothing seemed to be able to stop his powers now. In addition to the glass ban, he now couldn't use any of the more fragile exercise equipment, as more than one mishap with intangibility had led to some rather unpleasant accidents. His nighttime transformations were getting more numerous. And his sour attitude toward everyone was back in full after its little Christmas vacation.

Vlad's desire to find out where Jack and Maddie's relationship was heading proved to be harder than he'd thought – and he hadn't expected it to be very easy in the first place. Visits had now almost completely ceased. Vlad was lucky if he got one visit a month from a single person. Even Harriet hadn't been showing up. Vlad's ill temper and the awkward situation of keeping up with someone who was locked up in a room had taken its toll. Vlad, however, did not accept that as the reason. For him, any problems he had back there boiled down to one answer…_Jack_.

The winter cycle ran its course, and before anyone knew it, spring had settled in. The snow melted away, the trees and flowers began to grow, and the rain and sun took turns in getting everything ready for full bloom. The old saying "April showers bring May flowers" certainly held true that year, as the outdoors of Wisconsin seemed absolutely lovely that season. Before anyone could realise it, a full year had passed since the accident, with no progress made in curing the ecto-acne and Vlad's still-secret powers still on the expanse. Time whirled by from there, and soon it was the end of senior year for Vlad's old class in college. Three days before school got out, Harriet finally came back to visit him one more time. She subjected him to her reading of ten articles she had written (all of which were read around seven times), and described in excruciating detail a job interview she had had with the _Milwaukee Journal_, where she was to start her news career covering local stories. Vlad had been planning on asking her what the status was on Jack and Maddie, but she wasn't allowing much room for a new topic of conversation to come in. Somehow he managed to stay awake through her lecture, bobbing his head up and down when it seemed he needed to give her a response.

"…Well, those are my summer plans," she said as she finally began to wind down, "I guess I should be going now. Oh, before I forget. Maddie told me to give you this note," she pulled out a little envelope and threw it onto Vlad's bed. At the sound of his object of affection's name, Vlad immediately leapt out of his trance of boredom and back into reality. He stared at the note like it was a letter dropped by angels. He barely heard Harriet's farewell as she walked out, continuing to fix his gaze on the letter. A few moments after Harriet left, he tore it open:

_Dear Vlad,_

_Here's that surprise I mentioned to you at Christmas. Even with the ban on spectral science since the accident, Jack and I have been saving our money to put together another Proto-Portal. This time I handled the calculations. We've been keeping it secret in the special compartment in the lab, and we're going to try it out the night before we graduate._

_I wish you could be here, and so does Jack. He's still not giving up on your friendship._

_Love,_

_Maddie_

Vlad set the note down, feeling his face grow hot under his bandages. He'd spent little time thinking about the Proto-Portal's hand in the accident, focusing instead on Jack's, but the mention of the device that had ruined his life wasn't a very pleasant experience. And yet again, Jack was part of her letter.

"Jack…" he hissed, "When I get out of here, I swear I'll…" lightning seemed to leap out of nowhere and strike his brain. A Proto-Portal had caused his disfiguration and powers…what would happen if he were to be exposed to such an event once again? Vlad knew the compartment they were talking about – he and Jack had built it. And with his ability to fly and turn invisible, he could be there and back before anyone knew he was gone. But he didn't really know what would happen, and if he got caught…

Vlad leaned back against the frame of his bed, thinking it over in his mind. He had two options; risk even greater spectral exposure – and possibly his life – on an uncertain chance of a cure, or let a risky prospect go on by and stumble through adulthood with ghost powers.

All he had to do was decide.

----

The University of Wisconsin at Green Bay was dead silent that night. There was no breeze outside, the lights had been shut off, and the students were all asleep. The staff had all gone home for the night. Other than one janitor on the far side of one part of campus, not a single living thing was about making a sound. The science lab was no exception. Everything in the white-tiled room lay perfectly still.

At 10:00, an invisible figure flew through the roof, landed on the ground, and looked about.

Vlad had removed his bandages for this endeavour and had left himself in ghost-form. His powers acted a bit faster in this mode in case someone came by, and the bandages made it hard to see. The lab looked just as it had one year ago other than the absence of a circular frame resting on a table. Vlad walked over and through that table, bending down to the white-tiled floor on the other side and reaching two intangible hands through it. Those hands pulled out the second Proto-Portal, its controls, and its engine.

Without a word, Vlad set everything up.

He had gone over this in his mind all evening, going over all that was at stake here and the consequences of either choice. He had finally decided that anything that could get him cured and out of the hospital had to be taken up, no matter what the risk. He felt plenty of fear in his heart right now, for his life and for what his powers could become if this didn't work out, but his mind was set. He was willing to do this, for himself, for Maddie, and for revenge against Jack.

"Well," he sighed as he stepped back, eyeing the simple-looking device that would decide his fate, "Here goes nothing," with a last gulp, he flipped the switch.

The machine, as it had last time, seemed to explode with life, but this time, no steady beam fired out from the frame. It let off its eerie glow and hum, the green spectral mess spiralling around inside. Soon, Vlad felt something. Not a blast in his face, but a pulling force around his waist. It was not painful, and it was not familiar. It was like nothing he had felt before. The Proto-Portal seemed to be sucking him in by some invisible force.

Vlad planted his feet firmly on the ground. He clawed at the year. He kicked and grunted as he tried to resist. But soon, his body was intangible, it had re-configured itself into a floating blue mist, and that missed flew right into the portal, reforming into a screaming, terrified Vlad as he hurtled through a mess of green, the last traces of the lab on the other side, falling away behind him.


	6. New Master and First Sin

Bursting through the green fog from the portal entrance, Vlad, still in ghost-mode, found himself in a dark, twisted world of macabre and the damned. A haunting black nothing lay before him, green of all shades inhabiting the void. Swirls of the green spiralled into never ending, always twisting winding stairways that, if walked upon, would have people standing sideways and upside down. They seemed to be a part of the background of black, like the layers of glass put into a mulitplane camera. Blobs of a brighter green in the form of ectoplasm drifted up from between the sheets of black and green, vanishing as they travelled upward. And, lined up everywhere were floating purple doors.

Timidly, Vlad floated down the cascade of insanity, trying to settle his breath back down to a semi-normal state. He knew where he was. He had never been here before, not even in his dreams or his nightmares, and he knew nothing of what could happen here or where this place was located, but he knew about it. He, along with almost every other person studying paranormalicy, had been theorising about this place for years. This was the place that Jack had been trying to bust into a year ago when the accident took place. This was the ghost dimension.

Being distracted by the shear amazement and fear at being thrown into this world, Vlad found that he had forgotten to watch where he was going and hit his head on one of the floating doors. It was a tall door that rose up to a point at the top like a Gothic arch. Vlad stared at it for a moment. He looked around. If he didn't take a door, he'd keep floating through black and green – seemingly forever. On the other hand, anything from a skeleton to an out-of-control locomotive could be behind the door in front of him. After a minute's thought, he slowly opened the door and cautiously floated inside the black void within. Minutes later, he burst out as fast as he could, followed by a glass-shattering roar of fury. With sweat dripping all over his body, he slammed the door shut and took off. However, his fear had caused him to rush, which meant that he was again not watching where he was going, and he again ran into a door. This time, his whole body went up against it, and the purple entrance went falling, Vlad on top of it, downward.

The door went crashing down into green dust, and Vlad fell on his head nearby. He had landed in a graveyard, surrounded by a black iron fence and filled with leafless trees and aged tombstones. Somehow, the image of a full moon had materialised over the area, and a green mist covered the cemetery. One could almost hear the toll of an iron bell in the distance.

Vlad slowly walked backwards, looking around and trying to re-gather his senses, when he felt something grip his leg. A glowing green skeletal hand had come out from in front of a tombstone and had his ankle in its grip. Vlad quickly jumped away, his leg taking the hand with it. He quickly threw it back over to the grave, but by now, several full skeletons had lifted out of the ground and were marching towards him. Several of them held medieval swords in their hands. Seeing them advance towards him, Vlad decided that he should leave very quickly, and prepared to take off. No sooner had he lifted above the level of most of the tombstones, however, then another skeletal hand seized his leg, spun him around by it, and tossed him up against a tree. He attempted to phase through it, but he hit hard against the trunk. As Vlad landed, he felt something sharp pierce his back and a sting of pain explode around the inflicted area. Reaching for the wound, he found that a tree branch had caught on him, and that he was bleeding. When he pulled his hand back, he found that he was not bleeding normal blood, but green ectoplasmic goo. He was also a bit shocked that he hadn't passed through the tree – he had done everything he should have mentally to go intangible at will. Then a thought struck him.

"Figures," he muttered, "In the ghost dimension, ghosts can get hurt!" by now, the army of skeletons had completely surrounded Vlad and the tree he leaned against. Over a third of them were armed with some kind of sword. The thought in his mind was to stand up in fight, but his wound was at such a place in his back that any extensive arm or shoulder movement would have been insane. On top of that, he'd never been in this kind of situation before (how could he – he had never been _here_ before), and the late hour and shock of the day had worn him out. If he attempted to run, he'd likely get dragged back down again. As the skeleton army closed in, he closed his eyes and waited for the steel and bone to meet with his flesh, cursing Jack in his mind one last time and trying to fix his imagination so that the last image his mind would see would be of Maddie.

"RAHTAHMAH!" a high, furious voice cried out, followed by the sound of bones falling against each other. Vlad opened one eye. His second eye opened up soon afterward and his jaw dropped. A cloaked figure had leapt into the fray of skeletons, and with a glowing yellow-green samurai sword, he was dispatching of the walking bones single-handedly. His hood was up, covering his face, but his dark-brown (almost black) cloak spread heroically around him as he spun, flipped, and dived at the skeletons, breaking them down into scattered green bones. The skeletons armed with blades attempted to engage him, but he easily took them out in quick, easy manoeuvres. Vlad just leaned against the tree in awe, holding his wound and occasionally dodging a stray bone. Within minutes, every skeleton that had risen out of the ground was no more. The cloaked figure gracefully re-sheathed his sword and turned to face Vlad, finally lowering his hood.

His face was that of an older man, about fifty. His black hair was messy and cut short, grey streaks running along the sides of his head just above short sideburns. His goatee was thick and black, though the hair on his chin was greying as well. With the battle fought, his heroic air seemed to leave him, leaving behind a thin, tall man with a concerned and generous feel to him and tired green eyes. His cloak went down to his legs, and underneath was a second robe, this one a lighter brown and folded over itself, held by the belt that carried his sword. Underneath that cloak was a tunic that was slightly darker than his pale skin. Underneath all his robes he had on black boots. All and all, he bore a resemblance to a samurai warrior. A blue glow surrounded his form. His eyes were studying Vlad intently, and he had a small, worried smile on his face.

"Well, hello there," he said in a kind voice not at all like the battle cry he had given, "I take it you're new to The Ghost-Zone?"

"You could say that…" Vlad nodded, his jaw still hanging low.

"You'll want to stay clear of this place from now on," the figure noted, "There aren't many sane or good ghosts in this place nowadays, but this is one of the worst spots. I have to come here every so often by duty, but I'm never happy about it," he noticed that Vlad was holding his wound, "Are you alright?"

"Just a scratch from the tree," Vlad pointed upward, "I'm fine," the figure nodded.

"What's your name?" he asked.

"Vlad Masters."

"Good to know you, Vlad. I am Katou. How did you end up…you know…" he nodded upward towards the endless display of The Ghost-Zone, and Vlad got what he meant. Unfortunately, he had no answer.

"I…" as he struggled for a believable story, a ghost-ring shot out from around his middle and split in two, converting him back into human form, acne and all. As he became human again, he felt himself pass through the ground as though intangible, and he had to claw his way back up before he was solid again. He noticed Katou staring at him wide-eyed, his jaw now dropping.

"It's a long story," Vlad sighed, finally caught. Katou stared at him a moment longer. Then he offered him a hand in getting up.

"It's a good thing I like long stories, then," he said as Vlad took his hand and got up on his feet, "Come on. Let's go to my home. This is the last place to stand around and tell stories at," he took off. With nothing else to do, Vlad followed. He had nothing to lose by doing so, and it would be more of a risk to stay behind…

----

Katou's home was a cave floating on an island that had been carved out into a private layer for meditation, combat practice, study, and living. Bottles, lamps paintings, sketches, sculptures, pendants, weapons, jewellery, antiques…anything imaginable dating back pre-1700s was represented in some form or another in this lair. Ropes were strung around pieces of old ships' masts to make an obstacle course for training, and a layout on a marble floor showed various steps in many different styles of fencing and swordplay. Many of the lamps and bottles held samples of various kinds of ectoplasm.

It was one of these lamps that Katou used to treat Vlad's wound when they arrived. The lamp poured out blue smoke that he slowly let onto the wound. Vlad felt a strange, crackling sensation overcome his skin around the puncture, and soon everything was healed over. He was tempted to ask just how that happened, but the shock of this place and the rescue was still affecting him. In any case, Katou immediately sat across from him, ready to hear how Vlad had gotten into The Ghost-Zone. After gathering his composure for a few minutes, Vlad told him everything.

Katou was a very good listener. He paid close attention to everything, drinking in every word. He made no interruptions, and he made no strange expressions that would have been distracting. The only movement he did the entire time apart from blinking was to cross his legs and fold his hands in his lap.

Vlad was meticulously detailed in his telling of the tale. He left out not one piece of information. He covered minute things, such as the types of machines he had broken on accident, to such important details as when he first learned to fly and the result of Scar's testing. He covered the uncovering of his powers and the way life went at the hospital. The tale started as a fairly balanced portrayal, but as he got into it, Vlad found himself focusing more and more on Maddie and Jack. He explained Jack's attempts to break into the hospital to see him, he explained Maddie's letters, and he explained what he knew of what had been happening between them while he'd been in the hospital. As soon as he hit on the subject, he completely took off in a rant about Jack's idiocy and his love for Maddie, repeating what he had said and shouting unnecessarily. He got so into it that by the time he had finally finished, he was red in the face, sweating, and out of breath. Through it all, Katou remained calm, and when Vlad did finish, he offered him a glass of water to help relax.

"So," he finally spoke up, "they couldn't find any way to cure you?"

"None," Vlad gulped down the water.

"Well," Katou offered a small smile, "Your powers I'm afraid you're left with for life, but I can do something about that ecto-acne situation of yours," with that, the samurai suddenly lifted up his hand and let loose a green ectoplasmic blast that slammed into Vlad's face like the explosion set off by the first Proto-Portal all those years ago. The pain was identical to the blast from a year ago save for the fact that no additional cold was going over his body, and it went on even longer than the original blast had. When it was finally over, Vlad felt himself fall off his chair and onto the floor.

"What was that for!?" he spat, rising to his feet in a hurry. Katou's smile just grew wider.

"Take a look," he pointed to an old Elizabethan-age mirror nearby. Vlad hurried over to the mirror, and felt his jaw drop yet again. His face looked…normal. The ecto-acne had completely vanished. His hair was still white and his still weren't as dark as they once were, but his skin was finally smooth again. He lay one hand on his cheek to make sure he wasn't hallucinating. He lay his other hand on his forehead. He felt all over his face before finally setting his hands down again. He started shaking. He let out a half-cough, half-laugh. And for a brief moment, he almost could have kissed Katou. He was _cured_!

"Now, about your friend Jack…"

"Former friend," Vlad managed to hiss the comment out hatefully, even amongst his joy and relief.

"Yes, about that…" Vlad could sense where this conversation was going, and his light-hearted air began to cloud. He thought he knew what Katou was going to say, and he had his response ready.

"I'm not going to forgive him," he said defiantly, "He scarred me, left me with these powers, ruined my life, there was an incident with backwash prior to this whole mishap, and now he's stealing Maddie…"

"All of it was an accident," Katou said calmly, "Your depiction of some of these events was ill-tempered, but from what I can gather, his attempts to visit you were meant to be an apology. And you never mentioned telling Jack how you felt about Maddie."

"It doesn't change the fact that he's stealing her and that this is all his fault!"

"It could have been worse. A lot worse, from what that Scar fellow said. You two seem to have been best friends before all this. Throwing it away over this seems a bit ridiculous if you ask me."

"Well, now that I'm cured, I can check out of that hospital and give Jack what he deserves! I've been planning this for months, and I finally…"

"Careful there, my friend," Katou's voice now had a bit of force and warning to it, "Revenge is a dangerous and foolish train of thought, particularly when one obsesses over it for so long. Hatred consumes very easily. I'd forgive and forget if I were you," Vlad didn't say anything in response, but the comments went in one ear and out the other. He wasn't going to drop the issue – not in a thousand years.

"Now," Katou's voice dropped back into a more friendly tone, "You also mentioned you had troubles controlling your powers?" Vlad nodded, "And your powers so far are flight, invisibility, intangibility, and going back and forth between your ghost-half and human-half at will?"

"That's about it," Vlad nodded again.

"Well…I'm not going to lie to you, Vlad. I don't think there's every been a half-human, half-ghost in the entire history of time until you came along. I don't know anything about what this has done or could to you, and I don't know to what extent your powers are likely to grow. But your abilities don't appear to be any different from that of a normal ghost. And…well, I'd hate for you to have to stumble along through life trying to get the hang of them…" Vlad caught on.

"You could teach me how to control these powers?" he asked, his jaw dropping yet again.

"I don't see why not," Katou smiled. Vlad almost grinned himself, but then he remembered a few things that would pose a problem to this offer.

"I can't stay in here," he said, "I need to get back to the hospital by morning. The only reason I ended up here to begin with was that I found out Jack had constructed another Proto-Portal, so I went into the school lab at night to try and use it to cure myself! In order to get back here I'd have to…" a strange, malicious smirk spread across Vlad's face, and Katou could sense what he was thinking.

"Ask him for it," he said authoritatively, "From what I know of this man from you, and discounting your temper, he'd likely give it to you in a heartbeat. There's no need to commit thievery. I take it you want my help then?"

"Yes," Vlad nodded, "yes, thank you. I'll be back tomorrow night. I'll wait above but not in the graveyard. Now," he went ghost, "how do I get back there?" Katou smiled yet again.

"I'll show you."

----

In the science lab, other than the humming of the Proto-Portal and the eerie green glow it cast over the room, all seemed normal for this time of night. No one had been awakened by the portal's being turned on, and no one had come by since. Not a single living soul was in the room.

A stream of blue mist came out of the green mess within the portal and assembled itself into human form. Vlad went human and shut off the portal. He was too tired to look it, but he was happier than he had been in a good long while. He was finally cured, he had discovered The Ghost-Zone, and he had met someone who could show him how to control his powers. Katou seemed a bit virtuous, but, after putting on a display like that against the skeletons, he had to know what he was doing with ghost powers.

There was only one problem: how to get back to him tomorrow?

Vlad eyed the Proto-Portal. He knew Maddie had worked on this one – it wouldn't have worked otherwise, and she had said in her note that she had handled the calculations and put her own money into this. Stealing it would mean stealing something that was half hers. On the other hand, going back to ask for it would mean confronting Jack and working something out with him, which he refused to do. No matter what Katou or anyone else said, that accident was unforgivable and worth revenge. Stealing this would hurt him more than it would hurt Maddie, the way Jack obsessed over his creations. And the more skilled Vlad was with his powers, the more he could give Jack a painful and humiliating end.

He thought for a brief second more, and then he made up his mind.

Gathering the engine and portal frame in his arms, he went ghost again and flew off towards the hospital, phasing through the walls as he went.


	7. Deceitful Power

Though he was cured, Vlad didn't get out of the hospital right away. When the doctors saw that he had somehow become acne-free overnight with no logical explanation, every single one of them got suspicious. Something didn't add up here. His hair was still white, his temperature still below normal, and his problems with fragile objects persisted. The same tests and exercises they had put him through for over a year they put him through again, and they took new samples of his blood and tissue to see if anything had changed. Vlad ended up being held up another two months in the hospital. Eventually, however, the staff had to admit that he was well enough to check out of the hospital. Other than his face, nothing had changed from the day he had checked into the hospital, but he seemed like he could go about fine now. His time spent there may have been only somewhat over a year, but to Vlad, it felt like a lifetime. He decided that he would refer to his time spent there as "several years" should anyone ever ask him about it.

Of course, being out of the hospital meant that he had to find a place to live now, and he wasn't monetarily secure. He started looking for an apartment and a job around Green Bay, having gotten permission to stay in his old room at campus while he searched (Jack had completely moved out, leaving nothing behind). While looking, he ran into a classmate, who informed him that Jack and Maddie had moved. To where, he didn't know, but they had left together. Aside from making Vlad's blood boil even hotter against Jack, it got him looking outside the city for a place to live and a source of income. He had been looking around town for a job on the assumption that Jack and Maddie still lived in the city, and with them gone, he felt he best move out too – it might yield a better opportunity to find them. He still looked around in Green Bay – it was the home of the Packers, after all – but he finally found a somewhat decent apartment in Milwaukee and a job that paid enough for the rent. He knew that Harriet had moved up to Milwaukee to work for the _Journal_, and he knew that if he ever ran into her, she'd be the person most likely to know where Jack and Maddie had left. The school had held onto his things for him while he'd been in the hospital so, when the day came, he picked up his things, hailed a taxi and paid it with borrowed money form a classmate, and headed up to his new life.

Throughout this entire time, every evening at eight o' clock, Vlad would set up the Proto-Portal, transform, fly inside, and meet up with Katou. After a bit of confusion as to where the portal was at first, they finally worked it out to where Katou would meet Vlad at the entrance and take him to his lair (eventually, Vlad learned the way there himself), and once they arrived, practice would start. His training had begun.

Katou could be a tough master. He demanded full effort 100% of the time, and failure to perform at one's maximum ability could result in their getting additional work after a night's training – and that training normally ran at about eight hours. He offered praise when deserved and often jumped into the exercise, serving as Vlad's opponent or demonstrating certain techniques, but he always had some constructive criticism and picked up on whether Vlad was using too little or too much energy, how much he was tapping into his spectral energy, and little details. Vlad knew from the battle in the graveyard that Katou's gentle demeanour could be misleading, but this was more than he had expected.

Focusing his spectral energy proved simpler than he had thought – he tapped into it like one taps into their subconscious for an idea for a story or to experience a dream at night. The way to do it was simple – actually doing it was more difficult. Somehow, when one did something without knowing it, it was easier to do than when one was told what it was he was doing. Once Vlad was conscious of the way to bring forth his powers, it took him several tries just to transform from ghost to human form and several more tries to go back again. It was in this aspect of his powers that Katou was the least helpful, as this power was unique to Vlad. The first whole month of his training ended up being tests on his ability to transform, in normal circumstances, under pressure, in flight, at various speeds, underwater, and all sorts of things. It was a gruelling workout, and Vlad found his energy spent so much that he ended up sleeping until at list 2 PM once he left The Ghost-Zone (fortunately, his shift ran from 3 to 7, and it was a short walk from his apartment). Eventually, however, he finally got the hang of it, and he was able to transform easily under any conditions.

The second month of training focused on flight, invisibility, and intangibility. For this, Katou had them leave The Ghost-Zone and go into a park near Milwaukee, as only real-world beings or items could phase through obstacles in The Ghost-Zone. The park was almost like a mini-forest, and Katou had Vlad practice phasing through trees, rocks, and even the water in a pond, he had him fly around and perform various feats of acrobatics in the tree limbs, and he had him try going invisible when standing in front of various objects.

All of Vlad's time in the hospital gym had built up his physique to the point where acrobatics were fairly easy for him to learn, and flying was the easiest of his powers to get the hang of. The liberation of being off the ground and of being able to go anywhere one wanted made flying the most enjoyable power to employ, and thus, the easiest to master. Invisibility also came easily (helped along by the fact that Katou had stored several stones in his robes during these exercises, and turned his back to give Vlad ten seconds to make himself invisible before he started throwing them). Intangibility was another story. Katou insisted that he remain in-flight to perform intangibility, which wore out his energy reserve faster. And along with phasing through trees, rocks, and water, Katou used ghost-telekinesis to raise fairly large rocks from the ground and send them Vlad's way. He was supposed to phase through them. If he couldn't do it in time, he had to have quick reflexes. None of the rocks were ever big enough to really hurt him, but Vlad found himself falling to the ground and covered in bruises for much of that month. However, he eventually managed to get the hang of that as well, and by the end of the month, he was as skilled at intangibility as he was at flight and invisibility. And with this skill came the virtual elimination of mishaps with his powers during the day. There were a few incidents here and there, but they grew less and further apart from one another.

Throughout all of the training, Katou remained strict, demanding, and insistent on perfection, but this attitude was only employed concerning the training. On a personal level, he couldn't have been kinder to Vlad. He was very open, willing to listen and give advice on any subject Vlad asked about. He could always sense when he was pushing Vlad too far in training, and stopped it when it became too much for his student. He told jokes, laughed at stories that he heard, and he let Vlad contribute to his own training.

Vlad considered all that fine and good, and he held nothing against his new master, but he couldn't bring himself to fully become friends with him. Katou was a samurai, and as a samurai he brought to Vlad's training ethnic and moral philosophies and principles along with the ghost powers. He tried to have Vlad focus on thoughts and feelings while performing his powers, and introduced him to the basic concepts of _bushido_. Among these concepts were self-control, benevolence, and remaining calm, enduring all emotions within. This lifestyle forbade him from getting his revenge on Jack, as it considered vengeance an unjust action and an example of allowing one's emotions to take over (that little note on "unjust" actions was why Vlad never bothered to say how he got the portal, though he was never asked). Katou himself kept pressuring him to forgive Jack and move on. Vlad stayed respectful enough when talking about it with him, but he absolutely refused to suppress his anger or to forgive and forget. He was still after revenge.

The third month had all of Vlad's powers being tested, but the main focus was on forming spectral energy blasts. The smoky green orbs that he found he could form when he was angry turned out to be concentrations of spectral energy. When controlled, they could be fired off in a blast of power. Katou demonstrated several kinds of green spectral attacks, but for some reason, he had Vlad focus on an attack that always came out blue – a steady, transparent stream of blue spectral energy that took on a sword-like point at the end. While Vlad found it incredibly easy to change the orbs in his hands from blue to green, forming them into the attack was more difficult than he could ever imagine.

To form the orbs into a spectral blast, Vlad had to tap into his spectral power, like he had to for all his abilities. Then he had to move it through his body, into his hand, and outward in a steady, flowing stream that maintained definite form. This was like trying to get one's blood to flow backward in their veins. To change it from blue to green just depended on what piece of energy he focused on, but moving it outwards was impossible. Night after night after night, whenever they were working on energy blasts, Vlad tried again and again, and all he could ever get was a smoky blue orb in his hand. Katou helped as much as he could. He repeated time and again the method for which to fire the blast, he offered encouraging words while Vlad tried to perform the technique, and he demonstrated it countless times. But always, Vlad could never go beyond a smoky orb. Putting so much energy into learning one attack, combined with the continued practice in his other skills, wore him out even more during the daytime. Unlike with his other abilities, at the end of the third month, he had not been able to master firing the blast, and his frustration and impatience were beginning to show.

"Blast!" he yelled out on the first day of the fourth month, having failed again, "I should have mastered this by now!" they had been practising inside Katou's lair, on the raised marble floor.

"It's alright, Vlad," Katou said soothingly, "This technique doesn't come quite as easily as the others. The only time I've seen someone learn it quickly is if they were under pressure and had to fight off an enemy. Doing this through practice is a bit tricky. You'll get it eventually. Now, try again," Vlad sighed. He needed a break.

"Just let me get some water…" he jumped down into the part of the cave used for storage of lamps and bottles and reached for one.

"Vlad, wait!" Katou jumped down after him and smacked his hand away, an urgent look on his face, "I probably should have told you this sooner, but _never_ take anything from these bottles or lamps unless I tell you it's alright!"

"Why? What's in that one?" Katou sighed.

"I _definitely_ should have told you this sooner," he muttered, half to himself, before speaking up again, "The reason why is that many of these bottles hold various forms of raw ectoplasm."

"And…" Vlad wasn't following. The traces of ectoplasm he had discovered while in college had never done him any harm, and other than giving him ghost powers and ecto-acne, he hadn't suffered any terminal side effects from the accident (not that it made Jack any less guilty, of course).

"Alright," Katou sighed yet again, "You might want to sit down for this one, Vlad. I've got a lot to explain here," the samurai summoned up two chairs. The two men sat across from one another.

"Ectoplasm comes in many forms," Katou began, "It is very easily mutated and changed, and can be liquid, solid, or gas. But all ectoplasm belongs to three basic types – blue, green, and red. Those are the raw forms of ectoplasm. These make up everything here in The Ghost-Zone, and in specialised forms, they make up all full ghosts. But raw ectoplasm of any kind is extremely dangerous. When exposed to raw spectral matter, a ghost's power significantly increases, but at the price of malevolence, greed, and insanity. It takes the most negative of their thoughts and traits and brings them out into the surface to consume everything else," he stopped for a moment, and eyed the bottle Vlad had reached for as though it held some deadly germ. Then he went on.

"Blue is the rarest form of ectoplasm. It's almost impossible to find any of it in raw form, let alone a ghost comprised of it. It is also the weakest. Because of that, even though it is rare in raw form and as the primary component of a spirit, it's not unheard of for ghosts comprised of the other two kinds of ectoplasm to form attacks made up of blue spectral energy. Since it is so weak, exposure to raw blue ectoplasm isn't terribly risky if exposure is limited. But too much of it over a long period of time can prove very damaging indeed.

"Green is the most common kind, as you've probably noticed by now. Almost all spectral beings and most everything here in The Ghost-Zone are made up of green ectoplasm. It's mid-way in strength among the three types. As it's the most common kind, there's a lot of raw green ectoplasm floating around, and exposure to it drives ghosts into madness very quickly. I trust you've seen those gobs of green floating up from nowhere around here? Avoid them at all costs. Many ghosts have become evil in heart and mind from getting caught in those messes of green. You might have gotten a bit of it yourself during the accident, though since the ectoplasm was converted into spectral gateway and was filtered through to the real world, I doubt it lasted long.

"Red isn't too rare. It is the most powerful form of ectoplasm, and the most dangerous. Even the slightest exposure will turn a ghost into pure evil. It consumes the quickest out any of the three types of ectoplasm. Any ghost you meet that can conjure up red spectral blasts is going to be incredibly powerful and frightendly dangerous. Should you ever meet someone like that, be extremely careful," he took a breath, and Vlad took that brief moment to let all of the information he had heard register in his mind.

"So, the point is, raw ectoplasm is not to be toyed with. I keep a lot of it, even red, stored in these lamps and bottles, but it's because among my other duties, I often am to go to particularly dangerous places with a lot of raw ectoplasm around and store it away so that it doesn't affect anyone. In order to avoid being contaminated by it, you have to spend years in isolation and meditation, developing your ghost-immunity and developing your natural ghost powers, but even then, you're not completely safe. The only ghosts that are guaranteed safety from it are the ones that stay in the real world after they pass on. Not all specialised forms of spectral matter are safe either, but it's the raw forms you want to most watch out for. That bottle you were going for holds raw blue spectral smoke," Katou let out a breath, finally finished. Vlad thought about what he had heard. Raw ectoplasm definitely wasn't something to play around with. He had been gathering samples of the floating messes of green in small test tubes for paranormal studies, but he hadn't exposed himself to any yet, and it didn't sound like a wise idea.

And yet…there was the mention of more power. Something inside him found that intriguing. And he remembered something.

"Didn't you use blue smoke to treat my wound the first time we met?" he asked.

"I did," Katou nodded, "I will admit, raw blue ectoplasm, if used extremely carefully and in limited quantity, and be an effective healing tool and can help along meditation and certain spectral techniques. But I don't want you using any yet. You're not ready for it yet, and –" a green glow came from a dark chamber in the cave.

"That's a friend calling," Katou explained, "Hang on, I'll be right back," he headed over to the chamber. A few minutes later he stepped out, a serious expression on his face.

"I've got to take care of something," he said, raising his hood over his face, "Keep practising until I get back. I won't be gone long," with that, he ran out into the cave entrance, leapt of his little island, and flew off into The Ghost-Zone, his robes flowing dramatically behind him.

---

"_Blast_!" Vlad slammed his foot down hard on the floor, trying to catch his breath. It had been a full half-hour since Katou left, and he still hadn't returned. The entire time, Vlad had been trying again and again to perform the spectral blast, and every time he had failed. He was getting more tired of this by the minute.

"There must be _some_ way to get this thing right!" he hissed to himself, slumping in the shoulders. Then his mind drifted back thirty minutes ago. He remembered Katou's words_: 'raw blue ectoplasm…can help along meditation and certain spectral techniques.'_

Vlad looked down at the storage room. He eyed the bottle that he knew held the blue smoke. Katou's warning also came back to him, but so did the note about limited quantity. Now that Vlad was getting control over his powers, he was beginning to use them to his advantage. Going invisible and flying saved him money on cab fare, and anyone who made a wisecrack at his expense often found themselves in an embarrassing and unexplainable situation. If he got the hang of this kind of spectral blast, his training could move on. An opportunity to progress was before him.

He decided to take it.

He jumped down to the storage room, walked over to the table that held the bottle, and picked it up.

'_I'll only use a little,'_ he thought to himself, and he popped the top off. Blue smoke poured out from the bottle and seemed to lunge straight for him, engulfing him in a blinding blue fog. He felt himself coughing heavily and staggering around, never able to escape the fog. He heard the sound of the bottle smashing on the floor – he must have dropped it. But beyond all that, he felt more cold and more power seep through the pores of his skin. He could feel it building up his spectral energy inside him. And, in his mind, he had flashes of images from his dreams of revenge.

The fog remained for a few minutes. Then, slowly but surely, the cave began to clear. The smoke faded away. The broken glass of the bottle was nowhere to be seen. And Vlad watched as the white glow around his body went from its usual vague outline to thick and bright and then went back again. He could feel his entire body tingling, and his dreams kept replaying in his mind. His hands were shaking. Slowly, he floated back up to the marble floor. He raised up his right hand. He moved his spectral power forward. And a steady, transparent blue blast ending in a sword-like point flew out from his palm, collided with the rock wall, and blasted away a few rocks.

Vlad looked down at his still smoking hand, his eyes wide in shock. He felt a gulp slide down his throat. He clenched his hand shut into a fist, the smoke flying away. Then, looking up, he let out a relieved, joyful laugh that nevertheless held in it more than a faint trace of maliciousness.


	8. The Order and the Family

Katou had noticed the missing bottle upon his return. The explanation given was that he hadn't placed it steadily on the table when he had set it back down, and a misfire with a spectral blast had sent off a current that knocked it over.

As the months rolled by, Vlad's skill with his powers grew and grew. From the single blue blast, he began developing steady green blasts with rounded ends, spiralling white-green attacks, yellow-green orbs in his hands that he could throw like grenades, and blue and green spectral lightning that he could fire from his hands. His intangibility, invisibility, and flying skills kept expanding, and his transformation time was picking up in any situation.

In addition to all the spectral techniques, Katou had introduced martial arts and swordplay into Vlad's training. At first Vlad questioned why he had to learn these, but Katou had developed his own style of fighting since he had passed on. It combined samurai swordplay and martial arts with medieval broadsword, kendo, épée and sabre fencing, and fighting with ghost powers. It strengthened Vlad's physical being, and combining his powers with hand-to-hand combat enhanced them even further. It proved very beneficial to his training. For these, Vlad practised on the raised marble floor, going over basic fighting stances and routines very slowly and carefully, getting the form down just right and perfecting every stance, every kick, and every chop. Then he went through the routines again and again and night after night, increasing the speed each time and repeating the routines at the same speed until he could do them perfectly. Finally, he added in the ghost powers at the very end, going through the routines as quickly and precisely as he could and adding in his powers when directed to do so by Katou. He practised these in his spare time in the real world (sans ghost powers, of course), and within three months, he had gotten the hang of them.

For swordplay, Katou gave him a green sword and scabbard that, as soon as it was put onto his belt, vanished. He could summon it forth or dismiss it at will. It was in swordplay that Katou was most involved in Vlad's training, going through sword routines, demonstrating them, and letting himself be Vlad's target and opponent. This was also practised on the marble floor, the layouts on the floor serving as a guideline for Vlad as he learned how to step and move and advance and retreat. Attack and defence with the sword was primarily samurai in nature, though the broadsword, kendo, and fencing influences came through rather strongly. The style was very fast, very aggressive, and bound by a tight code of honour, right of way, and chivalry. One ways to always respect the skill of his opponent and to obey the rules of fair play. Acrobatics were kept to a minimum, employed only when needed, and stealth and surprise were essential. It was with swordplay that Vlad struggled the most, even more than he had with his first energy blast. Even after months of work, Vlad was still just getting the hang of the footwork, and he was never able to come within a mile of defeating his master. The other reason he struggled, in addition to having trouble learning the techniques, was that he found himself hard-pressed to follow the style's code.

Along with the swordplay, Katou had begun sparring with Vlad in martial arts and ghost powers to see how far he'd come along. As a final test every month, the last night would be made up entirely of the two fighting. Vlad could tell from the very first of these tests that Katou was restraining himself, always fighting at the skill level that Vlad had reached over the past month. While this made it a fair fight, Vlad felt insulted by this action – he wanted to take Katou on at his all. If he could beat him at that state, he reasoned that he'd start learning the more advanced techniques and not have to waste time going over the basics. That was his hope, but it wasn't likely to happen anytime soon. Even in a fair fight, Katou rarely had any difficulty in defeating Vlad at ghost fighting, martial arts, or swordplay. Despite his restraining himself, Katou had trained to be a warrior his entire life, and he had passed away in 1585, giving him 400 years to continue his samurai training and to develop his ghost-fighting style. He always seemed to think Vlad did better than the last time, but all Vlad saw was continuing failure and humiliation. It was trying his patience and adding to his frustrations with his master.

In Vlad's eyes, Katou was just too righteous. He kept bringing his _bushido_ philosophies to the table, telling Vlad to set aside his own problems and worry about those of others, telling him to set aside a life-destroying accident and forgive Jack, telling him to accept what happened between Jack and Maddie and keep a friendship among the three of them, and there were all his notions of self-control and enduring emotions within – it was almost as if he were training Vlad to become a samurai himself. Vlad refused to listen to such silly idealistic thoughts. Katou had been brought up to behave that way since he was young – fine. That was he. Vlad had grown up his way, and he'd seen betrayal, stupidity, and all the things that make the human blood boil all within a year and perpetrated by the same man. It didn't matter if Jack didn't know how Vlad felt about Maddie. It was still betrayal, and he had every right to want vengeance. Katou's ridiculous benevolence and forgiving spirit was for children, not men. Vlad had plans to take care of. To top it all off, Katou was very slow in the lessons, always insisting on going back to the basics and performing reviews when Vlad wanted to keep going. All of that dragging and his attitude over "unjust" actions and his precious bottles made it impossible for Vlad to mention how he got the portal or the incident with the smoke.

Ever since his little use of that ectoplasm, Vlad had been feeling different. He felt far more sure of himself. He always went into any situation feeling that his ideas about it were right and that any benefits that could come out of the situation were meant for him. In fact, more and more of his day-to-day outlook concerned how things could be beneficial to _him_. People who got in his way often found themselves the victims of both his temper and "unexplainable" pranks and mishaps, and he found he had a much less personal association with people that could help him than he used to. He didn't quite view them as tools or assets, but friendship seemed to be a bond he found himself hard-pressed to form or keep nowadays. He was only polite when he needed to be now, and was quick to drop the act if someone began to displease him. He also found that the full details of his plans for revenge now came to him more often than just in his dreams – more than twice at work, he had slipped into fantasyland and found when he returned to real life that he had written out a brief overview of all that he was planning to do. He hadn't messed around with anything in the storage room since the last time, but the effect from that smoke seemed to keep building up inside of him. Part of him still recognised that some of these changes could be viewed as rather disturbing, but more and more of his mind was liking the result.

There was one other thing about Katou that was weighing down on Vlad's tolerance for him. Whenever the green glow went off from inside the chamber in the cave, signalling that one of Katou's friends was calling, he always headed off and left Vlad to himself, saying that he had "duty" to attend to. Vlad took this as an insult as well. How was he supposed to make enough progress in his training to start on something new if his master wasn't around to train him!? He never bothered asking about it, though – if his master couldn't bother to tell him, then so be it. He'd turn on the samurai soon enough if his usefulness ended completely.

One night during training, the green glow went off again. They had just finished another sword duel, in which Katou had again emerged victorious. Vlad waited as his master went into the chamber, tapping his foot impatiently. Katou was soon back, and he had a much more relaxed expression on his face than he had ever had before after a call.

"Off on duty yet again?" Vlad asked in a rather testy voice, having started to abandon his civil act. Katou just smiled.

"Put your sword away," he said (Vlad had been gripping it like cold death), "I don't have any duties to take care of. I am leaving, but this time you're coming with me. There are some friends I'd like you to meet."

---

"Well?"

Vlad barely heard his master's sly question. His jaw had dropped, his eyes were wide, and his entire being was focused on the sight before him. He had been taken to a hidden sanctuary.

Vlad had no idea how large this place was. The four walls that made up the barrier, each one twenty feet high, stretched on and on. It was almost impossible to see the wall farthest off. Within the defence, there were five large buildings. Four were at the corners of the gates. There was a medieval castle, an Arabian palace, a Mayan temple, and a Renaissance-age library. In the very centre of the structure, there was an enormous Chinese palace. Each was authentic down to the last detail, from the flying buttresses and stone masonry of the castle to the upward-curving roof and supports of the Chinese palace. The sanctuary was so large that there was plenty of space surrounding the distance among the five buildings, and this space was populated by gardens, training grounds, and ghosts.

There were ghosts of samurai like Katou, some in robes, some in armour. There were the ghosts of knights from the Middle Ages in full shining armour. There were the ghosts of monks from the Far East, there were Chinese warriors, Arabian guards, Native American tribes, duellists and noblemen from the Renaissance…there were even a few ghosts of minutemen from the Revolutionary War. And there were plenty of young ghosts, all of them dressed in white robes. These young ghosts were in groups led by the elder ones, and everyone was doing some sort of activity. The samurai ghosts were giving lessons on a form of swordplay resembling Katou's. The monks were either tending to the gardens or in meditation, calmly going through simple techniques with their ghost powers. The knights were having some sort of tournament, combining jousting with spectral blasts. Everyone was moving about, doing something or other. Every soul in that sanctuary was in complete peace of mind, performing their tasks calmly and serenely. Even the younger ghosts were totally relaxed. And, as Vlad took the last of the sight before him in, for a brief moment, all the rage, aggression, anger, and loneliness he had harboured over the past year and-a-half seemed to seep out of his body – though just for that one moment.

"Well?" Katou repeated his inquiry, a small smile on his face. Vlad just turned to him, still stunned.

"Where are we?" he asked, still in awe. Katou's smile widened.

"Welcome to the sanctuary of the Order of Afterlife," Vlad's stunned look became even more awe-struck, "What? You didn't think The Ghost-Zone didn't have a governing body, did you?" he let out a small chuckle before turning back to the sanctuary. His smile remained, but a gleam of sadness began to come through from behind his eyes.

"We did have one, anyway," he mumbled to himself distantly. His smile began to slip, his mind seemed to reflect on something melancholy, and he now looked every one of his 454 years. Vlad knew from all of the _bushido_ rubbish his master had told him about that, as a samurai, Katou was to endure all emotions within – no groaning, no crying. Whatever memory had come back to haunt him, it was obviously weighing heavily on him. Though the sadness in his eyes seemed unable to be suppressed, the old samurai was controlling himself admirably.

"Well," he sighed, seeming to breathe out his melancholy air with it, "Shall we head inside?" he floated down towards the gate entrance. Vlad followed suit, his eyes still going over the sanctuary. Slowly the gates crept open, and the two entered on foot, heading for the main palace in the centre. Vlad couldn't help but notice that everyone had turned to look at or salute his master as soon as he set foot on the grounds.

Coming out to meet them from the central palace were six figures. Leading them was the ghost of a tired-looking old man with a long white beard and hair. He had a golden crown atop his head and armour made up of both plates and chain mail. Most of his armour was covered in a rich blue cloak that hung over his shoulders, and a magnificent sword hung at his side. To his left was a Chinese warrior in full red armour. He was a younger man, with a thin black moustache and a dull look to his uniform. His sword was strapped across his back. To the older ghost's right, there was a hooded monk, no weapon on him and his hands folded together. Behind these three, there stood a chief of a Native American tribe in full face paint, a bow and arrows over his shoulder; a robed figure who looked like he had come right out of _1001 Arabian Nights_; and a duellist from the Renaissance, an elaborate rapier strapped to his belt. All six had their eyes fixed on Vlad, and all had gentle smiles identical to Katou's. Katou moved forward a bit quicker than Vlad and met the old-looking man in front in a brotherly embrace.

"Good to actually see you in person again, Katou," the old man said warmly as they let go.

"Nice to be back here," Katou nodded, "With those special chambers letting us do the talking and my being so busy it's been forever since I've come here," the afterglow of seeing the sanctuary had begun to wear off, and Vlad felt himself forming a sentiment of annoyance for being left out of the conversation. That was soon remedied as Katou motioned for Vlad to come forward.

"Friends," he said, putting a fatherly arm around Vlad's shoulders, "This is Vlad Masters," Vlad nodded respectfully.

"Vlad," Katou now motioned towards the old man, "I assume that you've read about the legends of King Arthur in the real world – well, here he is," Vlad let his eyes bulge out in surprise.

"Well what do you know?" he said. Arthur smiled and held out a hand, which Vlad took.

"So you're Katou's half-ghost pupil," he observed, "Welcome to the sanctuary. This is Shao-lin," he motioned to the warrior on his left, who nodded politely, "Manach," he pointed out the monk on his right, who bowed, "and we have Wizikute, Majeed, and Brice Guyart," the chief, the robed figure, and the duellist all nodded as their names were called, "Along with your master Katou, we make up the founding body of the Order of Afterlife."

"The seven of you built this whole place and brought all these people here?" Vlad looked around in awe – how could they have done all this?

"Well, our numbers didn't _stay_ at seven," Katou said.

"And we've got the time," Wizikute smiled, a faint trace of dark humour colouring his voice.

"Well what do you know," Vlad nodded, looking around the place yet again, "Tell me, what exactly is this Order responsible for and what is this "duty" that my master keeps interrupting my training for?" his last comment held just the slightest trace of resentment in it. If the seven ghosts picked up on his tone, they made no sign that they had.

"We usually save that knowledge for people who have joined the Order…" Majeed said slyly, "but Katou seems to think you're trustworthy…" the seven elder ghosts all shot smug glances at Vlad, letting him dangle in suspense. Vlad willingly let his face slip down into a scowl. He didn't have time for this. Seeing his impatience, the ghosts broke the tension with a light laugh.

"Let's go inside," Arthur nodded, and the seven ghosts floated up the stairs. Vlad followed, his eyes still holding a bit of a nasty look. These six other ghosts…they seemed polite, gentle, benevolent, kind, and open like his master – and they likely held all of his annoying habits and principles.

The inside of the palace was peaceful, calming, and absolutely beautiful. Yellow ghost-flames placed in decorative lamps cast a dim, soft light all around the room that seemed to create a gentle and relaxing aura. The room itself was painted and carpeted in various shades of red. There were no violent blood-red hues – all of it was either rich, dark crimson or a muted shade. Seven cushions formed a crescent moon-shaped seating arrangement that faced the wall opposite the entrance to the room, and on that wall, three maps drawn on fine parchment were put up against the wall. Just below those maps was a smoking black cauldron filled with green liquid. The room was perfect for study, meditation, or conversation of any kind.

The party of eight slowly floated into the room, gathering around the cushions. Vlad noticed that the seven elder ghosts seemed to move towards the cushions as though they had sat in the same one for 400 years (and something told him they likely had). Katou, who was standing by the cushion farthest to the right, stepped aside and motioned for Vlad to sit down. He did so, feeling that he was in store for a bit of a long yarn.

"So…" Arthur said as he sat down, "You're asking about the Order then, are you?"

"Yes," Vlad folded his hands in his lap and got comfortable, "Please, spare me no details."

"Alright then," the old man sighed, "Where should we start?"

"The beginning would be best," Shao-lin set his swords down by his cushion. Of course, he was obviously right.

"Katou, why don't you start?" Majeed asked.

"Very well. Well, as you probably noticed, Vlad, most of the ghosts around here come from peoples and cultures that go back more than 400 years. We have a few people from the 1800s here and we even have flying aces from World War I in the Order. But, for the most part, our numbers are made up of the ghosts of knights of the Middle Ages, leaders of the Renaissance, samurai, and…well, you get the idea. You see, at the time when we were all…entering The Ghost-Zone, there was no governing body at all. It was total chaos and anarchy. Every single ghost kept running into ectoplasm and was twisted into insanity, evil, or sometimes just plain idiocy. We all saw this happening around us, and instead of letting this place take over us, we started learning about The Ghost-Zone to protect ourselves from it. We uncovered all the kinds of ectoplasm and its affects. We learned how to shape and refine ectoplasm into a harmless and beneficial form. We began to realise that being ghosts gave us ghost-powers, and we trained ourselves to use them. And we discovered safe places where we could learn all this, like this sanctuary and my cave.

"The seven of us had not met each other at the time when we came here, but it didn't take long for us to become aquatinted. We had all been up to the same things, and we had all recognised the same problems that existed here in The Ghost-Zone. As we conversed and our friendship grew, we shared the knowledge we had gained with one another. We also realised that the cultures and philosophies of life that we had come from in life were very similar. _Bushido_ has much in common with the chivalry of medieval Europe. The Chinese warriors and duellists from the Renaissance hold honour in the same high regard as the samurai and the knights. The Native Americans believe in keeping their land in order. There was much we had in common in morals, philosophies, and ethics, and those beliefs had governed the nations and tribes we had come from. We thought The Ghost-Zone could do with a similar governing body, but we realised that the ghosts in here come from many peoples and cultures. Some of them aren't even human. So, we took the shared traits of each of our beliefs, broke them down into a basic code, and founded the Order of Afterlife. Honour, respect, benevolence, obedience, loyalty, love, generosity, self-control, justice, and selflessness…it's more of a code than a government, but it's something."

"Once we founded the Order, we didn't force anyone to join us," Wizikute took over, "We gave thought to that, and decided that this would be an Order of choice, not one that conquers to spread its way."

"People from our own countries, cultures, backgrounds, and philosophies were the first to join," Manach said, "But soon other ghosts began to become attracted to our philosophies."

"Individuals, clans, colonies, and cities began to adopt the Order as their central governing body," Arthur said, "and they began opening themselves to more knowledge about The Ghost-Zone and philosophy. The seven of us and the people from our cultures began to take on students and apprentices, teaching them about ectoplasm, different varieties of ghosts, using ghost powers, the code of the Order, and our own personal beliefs and fighting styles."

"With all of those areas of The Ghost-Zone looking to us for guidance and for protection," Majeed said, "we began to defend our members from the ghosts who had become evil."

"And for additional training, focus, and just plain amusement, we arranged quests like the First Crusade," Arthur said, "Some of them are still going on now. We're still trying to find the Skeleton Key. It can open any door, lead into any realm, and free any prisoner."

As we began to drive those ghosts out," Katou resumed his role as the speaker, "and as our numbers grew and our numbers began to be educated about this place, we ended up with an idealistic world – a free and fair society with a warrior's code of honour and a benevolent yet just attitude towards its members. For more than 300 years there, things went by very well," with that, the seven elder ghost shared sad, reflective glances, and Vlad took the brief pause to take in the whole story and to assess his view on the Order in his mind.

The entire organisation seemed to be made up of all the garbage that Katou had been throwing at him. Everything on honour, chivalry, self-control, "just" actions…there was nothing appealing about this Order. Why in the world would they not want to conquer once they had formed their governing body? If they wanted their organisation to grow, they needed to get the power first, and sitting by and allowing choice among potential subjects did not yield true power. And all that nonsense about warding off evil ghosts just for the benefit of one's people? He didn't have time for things like that! He had his own problems. If someone needed to fight off a ghost, they could do it themselves!

Still…this Order did appear as though it could be beneficial to him in some ways. Their knowledge on how to control one's ghost powers and all they had learned about ghosts and ectoplasm would doubtlessly be helpful, though he could likely learn all of that from Katou alone. And that Skeleton Key Arthur mentioned…he could see that as being something worth looking for. So he decided to tolerate them…for now.

"And what happened after those first three hundred years?" he asked. The seven elder ghosts turned their eyes back toward him.

"After World War I in the real world," Katou sighed, "Other types of ghosts began coming in. These ghosts were unscrupulous to begin with, but The Ghost-Zone only made things worse. They were the ghosts of modern crooks, gangsters, and Mafia dons. And, whereas most evil ghosts tend to get cocky, careless, and a little bit dim after the ectoplasm builds up in them for a few years, these ghosts just seemed to get more clever. They stayed out of any of the Order's territory at first, going through doors and building up ghost-mobs. They began going into strange and unusual businesses and they set operations similar to those they had in the real world. One in particular posed a problem – Vito Luchesi," at the mention of this name, a strange darkness seemed to flicker across the room.

"Luchesi was the most clever out of all of these vagabonds," Arthur took over, "He stayed in the shadows and waited for the opportune moment. He waited and watched as the other ghost-mobs came together, he waited and watched as they began their "business," and he waited and watched as they began to compete. Off on the edge of our boarders a war between the mobs broke out. There were at least seven of them, all trying to get complete control over all illegal activities in that area in The Ghost-Zone…"

"I thought that beyond the Order there was no law in this place," Vlad interrupted, a slight hint of mocking lining his voice.

"We'll get to that," Arthur brushed the comment aside, "Finally, when the war had reached its breaking point, when it seemed like the mobs would self-destruct or destroy each other, Luchesi moved in. He promised a solution to the problems and an equal share. He acted as a messenger and a peacekeeper for the different mobs…at least in the beginning. Before anyone realised it, he had gobbled up all the mobs into his own empire. He became head of The Ghost-Zone Family, the most massive Mafia family put together in any time, place, or dimension. And somehow, he managed to keep it all in the shadows. He had nothing going on within the main space of The Ghost-Zone; all his activities, all his assets, all his business doings were all behind doors, and never in the same door twice. And he began to threaten, bribe, and intimidate all of the ghosts into doing as the Mafia wished. He still stayed out of the Order's territory, but we kept our eyes on the news about him. Then, he began to move in."

"We weren't able to tell right away," Manach explained, "But there were signs."

"We had always encouraged the discovery of knowledge and experimentation," Brice Guyart spoke for the first time that day, "We did not encourage making advancements in weapons technology, but we didn't forbid it, and we never silenced anything."

"You discouraged the development of weapons?" Vlad raised an eyebrow, his voice disapproving.

"Before guns were invented, the only people who could be dangerous with a weapon were the ones with the patience, strength and skill to learn how to use one," Katou said sternly, "Now it's as easy as pulling a trigger, and what's come since guns has only been more destructive."

"We began to notice," Arthur resumed the story, "that there was less discovery taking place, that there was less knowledge being gained and shared, and that there were fewer inventions coming in from the edge of our territory. We knew that this was something that the family had forced upon the rest of The Ghost-Zone – completely silencing any new knowledge and technologies. And we're still trying to piece together why. Suspicious, we had Wizikute and several ghost-tribes head out to investigate – and they found that the Mafia had begun moving into that area."

"I spent the better part of the 30s, 40s, and 50s trying to track down Luchesi and his seven chief henchmen," Wizikute sighed, "but he was always three doors ahead of us, and we hit so many distractions from the family's activities and found so many false clues that I wouldn't be surprised if he had the entire chase in his hands for those three decades."

"He's never pushed far enough into our territory that he gets even halfway towards this place," Majeed said, "And we've won plenty of battles against him, but he's stayed as elusive as ever. His influence keeps building up and spreading. He's kept anyone else from voting to join the Order. We haven't had annexed any territory since 1930."

"And as the founding council and the main governors of the Order, we and our students can use our powers only for defence and for protection," Manach said, "Not for attack."

"And we're not interesting in gaining new territory unless the people of that territory wish to join," Katou added, "This fight is to free the subjects we have and to stop an illegal force from controlling the will of this dimension's inhabitants. But as we said, Luchesi is ever elusive and always ahead of us. We're not even entirely sure what he looks like. Ever since one breakthrough in 1973, all our victories against his mob have been minute. We've lost some of our best warriors and many of our subjects are under some sort of threat from the family. It's been a hard 55 years trying to fend them off."

"And then…there's Walker," Arthur sighed.

"And who is this Walker?" Vlad inquired.

"He is what we said we'd get back to," Katou sighed, "Walker and his police force became the second judicial body in The Ghost-Zone when they arrived. He has his own set of rules, and he has a totalitarian way of enforcing them. He quickly got control over a large portion of The Ghost-Zone just before the criminal ghosts began to arrive. He passed many of the laws that made the Mafia's activities illegal, though their use of revenge as justice, their self-serving quest for power, and their activities were unjust by our standards as well."

"Walker had as much luck as we did in tracking down the family," Arthur said, "In 1960 we suggested that we ally ourselves to take them down, but Walker refused."

"Apparently," Katou smiled glumly, "in Walker's eyes, if you don't follow his rules, you're on 'Ghost-Zone's Most Wanted' list. Though I'm not sure how coherent his rules are. At one point, I believe he arrested a ghost for violating a rule he made up on the spot."

"Fortunately, he has no idea where any of us live," Arthur said, "But he won't co-operate with us, and often works against us. We have two enemies bearing down on us now, and they're fighting with each other as they fight with us. There's been fighting all over The Ghost-Zone, our subjects are constantly at risk, and the Mafia seems to be the only one of us that makes any real progress. Those maps on the wall are maps of the territory each side has the most control over. The reason why your master is always being called away on duty is because we have had to spend more and more time defending the Order. The twentieth century has been a dark time for The Ghost-Zone, Vlad…a very dark time," all seven elder ghosts sighed. The room went silent, seeming to reflect on the long years that had passed by since 1930. Then, with another sigh, they seemed to again let out all the melancholy.

"So," Katou smiled, "Vlad, I know my duties toward the Order have interrupted your training. I think we have a solution. This cauldron here," he headed over to the cauldron below the maps, "It's identical to what's in the chamber in my cave. All you do is convert yourself into ghost-vapour and fly into it. A mirage of you will come up in the other cauldron. The people in my chamber would be able to see and commune with you from here and vice versa. Also, if you ever want to see what I'm up to, dip the handle of your sword into the cauldron. Our swords share identical stones in the handles, which allows one of us to see where the other is in case one of us is in need. This should help make things a bit smoother during training when I have to leave."

"Ah," that was Vlad's simple reply. A brief silence followed. Then Arthur smiled.

"Well, shall we head on back outside?" he said. The seven elder ghosts cheerfully floated towards the exit, but Vlad remained in his seat.

"Coming, Vlad?" he heard his master's question, but he did not turn to look.

"Would you mind if I stay here a minute more? I'd like to try using the cauldron," a moment's pause.

"Very well. Don't take too long – we need to be heading back soon," Vlad nodded lightly. He waited until he was sure any other presence was gone from the room before he looked around, stood up, and eyed the maps carefully.

Walker sounded like a rule-bound control freak and a tight-fisted, self-serving burden. Unless he had some weakness that could be exploited, he was definitely someone to avoid. And The Ghost-Zone Family was clearly a shrewd, violent, dangerous, and illegal empire, one that shouldn't be crossed. The Order actually seemed to be justified in the case of trying to defeat these two, even if they were forfeiting a perfect chance to gain power for their silly righteous code.

And yet…

'…_Use of revenge as justice…'_

'…_Quest for power…'_

The piece of his mind that the smoke had brought to surface took these comments into consideration. It thought of what its own dreams and its deepest desires were. And, as it crept over his heart and soul and took full control of his body, all of Vlad Maters began to find this ruthless, oppressive, unscrupulous Mafia empire…

…_Intriguing_.


	9. The Pact

The wheels of time kept turning in the eternal clock, and the months continued to roll on by. Winter blew in, Christmas and the New Year went by, and spring began to bloom. Throughout all this time Vlad had settled into his life's routine – going from one job to another to make a living by day; going through his training with Katou by night. And, with the initial shock of being in The Ghost-Zone long since past and his mind open to any knowledge he could gather about the place, and with him now used to being awake all night, he could wake up in the morning with little sleep and still function. Both sides of his life seemed to become the norm for him. With the odd exception here or there, there was little in the way of any kind of surprise.

When he woke up the morning of May 9, 1986, he had no reason to suspect that day as being any different.

In the time since his visit to the Order, Vlad's abilities had expanded greatly. He had begun work on defensive manoeuvres with his powers, creating spectral energy domes around him that could act as a barrier and small walls of green that could serve as a shield. He also learned a very useful technique – if a continuous spectral blast attached to his opponent's hands or a spectral rope was coming for him, he could catch it in his grip and send a spectral shock down the length of his opponent's attack back at them. It administered a very painful sting (Vlad knew what it felt like – to demonstrate, Katou had performed it on him) and was in fact very much like a stinger. Katou was now showing him how to transfer spectral energy into his sword, and that energy surrounded the blade in a blue or green flame. It could be left on the sword or shot out in a sharp wave of energy. Either way, in this form, the sword could cut right through any kind of ectoplasm – except the spectral flame on the blade of another weapon.

Katou's duties continually interrupted Vlad's training, but as Vlad now knew why his master had to leave so often, that wasn't as much of an issue between them now. At Vlad's request, Katou had gotten him the full records and legends of the Skeleton Key. Vlad devoted his time when his master was away half to going through the legends and half to perfecting his skills. He rarely made use of the cauldron Katou had told him about, though he did often visit the sanctuary. His master never needed help in taking care of his duty, and if he did…

The issue of Katou's duty may have been behind them but Vlad's other reservations towards his master and the Order still remained – and if Katou knew of the other issues, he made no sign of it.

Vlad did have to admit; the Order did prove useful to him. Beyond basic knowledge of ghosts and ectoplasm and the legends of the Skeleton Key, they knew about The Ghost-Zone itself. Their maps provided him with a way to determine which areas of The Ghost-Zone could prove worthy of a visit and which he should steer clear of. They knew specific doors where he could go to test new abilities. And they were always willing to serve as guides if he was flying off into areas where getting lost could prove dangerous. But their beliefs, their philosophies, and the ghosts themselves just did not go along with Vlad's plans for his life.

There were two things, though, that the Order was useful for, even if they did not know they were involved (and Vlad knew they wouldn't have wanted to be if they knew). One was in providing him with knowledge of The Ghost-Zone Family. A single part of his mind, the one that – up until the accident, and even until the incident with the smoke – had chiefly been in charge of governing his thoughts and emotions, resisted the idea of pursuing an interest in the ghost Mafia. It was a violent, dangerous, illegal, and immoral business. But his mind had dismissed that area of his subconscious from its position as chief long ago. Unbeknownst to the Order, he had been using their maps, their records, their history, and their battle plans to learn all he could about both the Family and Luchesi. He did research in the real world to find out about Luchesi's life in the 30s. Even then, he was a sly, clever, powerful ringleader in the New York Mafia families. He learned about certain operations that the Family conducted in The Ghost-Zone, of past headquarters, and of suspected hiding places. The last of his old self in heart, mind and soul convinced him to keep himself from going into the Family's territory, but his investigations proved to be increasingly tempting to his new self.

The second thing the Order was unintentionally useful for was that their knowledge about ghosts and ectoplasm proved very helpful to Vlad's experiments. Now that he was no longer in a college that forbade paranormal studies or cooped up in a hospital room, his pursuit of his old obsession began anew, and this time he had the ultimate card in the deck – The Ghost-Zone. Many of the theories he, Jack, and Maddie had made had been proven correct, but armed with his enlightenment, Vlad had re-written half of his old notes. He had begun retrieving ectoplasmic samples, chiefly the raw green material floating around. Though he took great care to avoid contaminating himself with it, he had been hit once or twice. The affects were identical to the incident with the smoke – only more so. This only further pushed out the young college student he had once been. And he had completely revamped his blueprints for his ghost-hunting weapons to work with full spectral power instead of traces he had dug up. Cut off from scholarship and two partners, he didn't have the money to buy all the equipment he needed to build his inventions, but the blueprints were ready. And, when the time came, he planned to test his toys out right in The Ghost-Zone.

In the real world, Vlad had gone through five jobs in the past few months. He had gotten good wages and moved into a better apartment. He was able to achieve such good fortune partly because he had been paying closer attention to the people around him and made better observations on whom to ally himself with. In each job he had gone to, he had played his cards carefully, acting the part of the friend to all the people who could see to it that he could get some kind of promotion or raise. Whenever someone began to lose their usefulness, or someone who could be more helpful came along, he was always quick to change teams. This had certainly paid off in securing his finances and living conditions. However, this was also the chief reason he had to keep going from job to job, as he couldn't silence the people whom he abandoned.

He had begun to change his appearance as well. Gone was his long, messy hair and T-shirt from his college days. He now kept his hair trimmed and slicked back. He never let his beard grow out all the way, but he always left himself a bit unshaven. His dress was now made up of casual pants, jackets, and button-down shirts. He kept green and gold as his main choice of colour. His new looked proved helpful with combat, as his clothes were easier to move in and his shorter hair not so distracting.

One change to his life's routine had came up just recently. As a test of Vlad's skills so far and to provide some "real-life" training, Katou had been sending Vlad out on minor quests and duties. He began retrieving rare jewels in areas close to the Order's sanctuary. Later on, he was to track down clues to larger quests and pieces to greater puzzles. Eventually, when he was ready, he was to go on a "journey of self" as Katou had described it, searching for a door that would lead to a mystical, isolated, and solitary land where he could see all of his heart, soul, and mind laid out before him. He could see his strengths and weakness, his hopes and dreams and his fears and nightmares. In this place, he could see all this, separate the darkness of his soul, confront it, and drive it out, attaining a state of being that was absolute. He would have this state only as long as the land allowed him to stay, but knowing how to reach that perfection, he would be able to go back to his training and work towards reaching that state again. Every member of the Order had had to find this place and perform this ritual – even Katou, Arthur, and all of the founding council. It was considered a rite of passage. Vlad was not ready for this journey yet, however, and he doubted he would stay with the Order long enough to go on it. He was not fond of his petty, unimportant tasks either.

May 9, 1986 began as a normal day. He awoke from his most tangible dream yet of revenge and of love for Maddie (they seemed to become more akin to reality with each passing night), he showered, he dressed, and he hailed a cab to work. His latest job was at a local seafood restaurant, serving as an assistant manager. He had been working his way around at that place and had the highest salary out of anyone there, but he had reached the point where his changing alliances meant that he would soon be leaving – possibly within a matter of days.

His shift was from 10 to 8, and he hailed a cab home after grabbing a bite to eat (free fresh Atlantic salmon from the restaurant). From there, it was a quick shower and a change of clothes, then he started up the Proto-Portal and headed into The Ghost-Zone for another night of training.

After initial warm-ups, the two prepared for the end of the month final exam (Katou had been busy with a particularly time-consuming duty with the Order for the past few weeks, so they had missed it April 30). Vlad's ever-growing skills had made themselves known in these tests. He had finally been getting the hang of Katou's method of swordplay (the moves, not the ethics). His movements were faster, sharper, and more precise, as were his martial arts skills. His spectral attacks had more power behind them, and his defensive abilities held up against his master's attacks. Katou kept on saying that he improved exponentially with every passing month and that it was getting harder and harder to take the upper hand. But Katou still kept holding back to make it a fair fight, and he always emerged as the victor. Tonight was no exception.

They had been going at it for two hours. Both were soaked to the bone with sweat (or whatever it is that ghosts perspire). Katou had removed his dark heavy cloak and had gotten rid of the lighter brown robe held by his belt, leaving on only his tunic, belt, boots, and dark trousers the same colour as his cloak. Vlad had lost his jacket, rolled up his sleeves, and opened up part of his shirt. The marbled floor they were duelling on was scorched from spectral blasts and was covered in scratches from their swords. Both were covered in bruises and their clothes had been cut and torn at several places. Yet, despite his master looking even more tired and world-worn than was typical, it felt to Vlad as though he was the one that was more tired out.

Vlad was determined to win. He had had it with being knocked down every month. He was tired of being forced to fight an opponent who was holding back as though Vlad wasn't worth his full power, he was tired of going over the same basic routines day after day, and he was tired of his master constantly putting up an act as though he were actually having trouble (so Vlad thought, anyway). Growling at his master, he fired a blue spectral blast at the floor in front of his master, raising up smoke and dust as a distraction. With stealth and silence, he slipped over to Katou's side, firing another blast and churning up more smoke and dust. Moving behind his master, he repeated his move. Around and around in a circle he went at great speed, firing off his blue attack and raising up a cloud of smoke and dust so thick that it could be cut with a spectral wave set off from his sword. All the while Katou remained where he was, remaining calm, his eyes occasionally darting back and forth as he tried to catch Vlad's movements. He stood in place, statuesque and focused, patiently waiting for a revealing sound as the smoke continued to build. He waited and waited. Finally, deciding that some action was advisable to move the fight along, Katou curled up into a ball of ghost energy and shot it outward, blowing the smoke away as it travelled away from its host. His vision was clear, but Katou saw no sign of his student. He continued to remain in that one spot of marble. He had been in combat his whole life, and he sensed a trap when one came up. He wasn't about to fly into it.

A moment's pause. A swish of steel moving against the air made their sounds known and the blade grazed Katou's ear. He picked up on the brittle whoosh of sound almost too late – almost. With less than a second to spare, he managed to parry Vlad's cut from overhead as his apprentice became visible, balanced just over Katou's head. His parry in place, Katou let go of his sword with one hand and charged up a spectral blast, firing right into Vlad's chest and blasting him back towards the ships' masts. Vlad was caught by the ropes and tossed forward like in a slingshot, flying over the marble floor and crashing into the sloping rock wall across the room, sliding down and falling into the piles of stored treasures.

Vlad sat in the mess of valuables for a moment, letting his sense come back after being knocked out by the collision with the wall. Then, as he pulled himself together, he slowly floated back up to the marble floor, touched down, and, grinding his teeth, fired a huge green blast into the floor that shook the whole cave.

"BLAST!" he yelled as loud as he could, echoes shooting back from all corners of the cave, "_**AGAIN**_!"

"I don't know why you're upset," Katou sighed as he re-sheathed his blade, "You nearly took my head off with that trick of yours," it was clear he meant it as a compliment, but there was a bit of worry in his voice.

"Oh no, really?" Vlad hissed sarcastically, "Well, it's a good thing I lost then, isn't it? I wouldn't want to decapitate someone who can't die since he's already dead, now would I? I'll just keep going over the same things month after month and get toyed around with by my master, who continually holds back as though I'm not worth his full time and – "

"You're never going to learn anything if you don't fight opponents at your own skill level," Katou said sternly. The tone he took and the glare in his eye seemed to show that maybe he did know a bit more about Vlad's issues with him.

"The only reason that we keep going over the basics is because you need to learn how to crawl before you can walk," Katou continued as he gathered up his robe and cloak, "You've been getting better and better every month and you're learning new skills just fine, but unless you keep reviewing basic techniques, you won't make anymore progress. And as to the sword…well, let's just say that ghosts aren't completely immortal," at that comment, Vlad looked down at his own sword as though he were holding both the Holy Grail and an atomic bomb. What could this thing do?

"In any case," Katou said as he put his robe back on and wrapped his belt around it, "That is it for tonight, because you have another duty. And I think you'll find this one to be worth your time," his tone again suggested that he knew more about Vlad's issues with him then he let on.

"And what might that be?" Vlad raised an eyebrow.

"A few miles up from here at the Order's north-west border, a ghost named Eel has been causing a lot of problems for a lot of ghost-fishers that live in the doors there. I want you to take care of it," Vlad nearly dropped his sword. It may have just been in a small area of the border, it may have only been one ghost, and it may have been meant to be in line with the Order's policies. But…

'…_I want you to take care of it…'_

This wasn't just putting a piece into a puzzle. He wasn't just picking up some jewels or artefacts. This actually sounded like a real mission…like a _challenge_.

"You're kidding," Vlad said sceptically. Why would he be given a task that actually matched his abilities after all this time? He should have been getting assignments like this to begin with!

"Oh, I think you've earned the trust for something like this," Katou smiled as he slid his cloak on, "He shouldn't be hard to find. Be very careful around him – he's a tricky one, that Eel, and he has red spectral blasts on his side. He moves fast, too, so you might want to get a move on."

"Very well," Vlad sheathed his blade, "I guess I'll be seeing you tomorrow evening, then," he began floating to the door, paying no mind to the sound of a spectral technique Katou always used to clean up all the scorches and scratches on the marble floor.

"Vlad," he heard his master call.

"Yes?" he answered, stopping but not turning around.

"I said that I wanted you to take care of this, and I told you about our swords. But I want you to bring him in alive if possible," for the third time that evening he showed greater insight to Vlad's thoughts then he usually let on. Despite being uncomfortable about that, Vlad didn't have time to worry about it now.

"Good night," he replied simply, and with that, he flew out of the cave and off to the northwest border.

---

The northwest corner of the Order was usually a quiet little place. The ghosts of trappers, fishers, and hunters were the primary population here, living behind that doors that led to forests, lakes, oceans…wherever their profession called for them to be. This area of the Order's territory usually lay in peace, the only activity being the exchange of goods between ghosts on every month's market day. On a normal day, it was quite possibly the most tranquil spot in The Ghost-Zone. Unfortunately, today was not a normal day.

Eel well earned his name, as he was literally the ghost of an electric eel. He was well known throughout The Ghost-Zone as a dangerous fugitive from both the Order and from Walker. His speciality was attacking the ghosts of fishermen as they practised their trade, but his other charges involved theft, abduction, assault, and he was suspected to have some ties to The Ghost-Zone Family. The ghost of an aquatic animal, he could not speak and made no sound while moving, and he was as fast and as slippery as he was a menace. His motives might have been animal territorial instincts when he first arrived, but he had long since made his crimes a pleasure – mainly due to his absorption of high levels of raw red ectoplasm.

Eel's current occupation involved him lashing out with his teeth at the door to a log cabin. Giant splinters of purple glowing wood went flying as he gnawed and gnashed at the wooden barrier as though it was his midnight snack. He had completely absorbed himself in this task to get inside. So absorbed was he, in fact, that he did not notice the green spectral blast that came flying at his right and hit him right in the jaw. His wind quickly returned, and he turned with a snarl to face his opponent.

"Ghosts outside the Order aren't exactly known for subtlety, so I take it you're Eel," Vlad Masters said with a sarcastic air, his arms crossed, "I'd hate to interrupt your little meal there, but apparently the Order takes offence to your choice of meals and has asked me to take care of it," Eel let a sarcastic grin slide over his face. His eyes quickly went from blue-green to blazing red, and a hot steady beam went flying out from each one. Vlad quickly flew straight downward, the blasts passing over his head.

"Well, Katou's wish for him to come back in one piece seems unlikely," he said to himself as he floated back up, drawing his sword. He and Eel locked onto the other's eyes, gazing right past them and into the other's mind. Neither one of them had any fear, but both held some strange and dark enjoyment for the battle to come and the knowledge that they could harm the other. Vlad was feeling this for the first time, and it brought a cruel smirk to his lips.

"Now _this_ is where the fun begins," he hissed under his breath. He raised up his sword, sent a flame of spectral energy around the blade, and shot it out in a quick slash, following that stroke with another one perpendicular to it. Eel dodged the two strikes as though he were swimming around a strand of seaweed. He let out another blast with his eyes, which Vlad blocked, and then the criminal ghost took off, speeding as fast as he could toward the east. With a quick re-sheathing of his blade, Vlad followed in pursuit. The hunt was on.

Eel proved to be quite resourceful. It was clear that he knew his way around the labyrinth of doors, islands, and general void of The Ghost-Zone. He was constantly making his way towards rows of doors, going left and right, flying around in circles, and zigzagging between the doors themselves. He rammed into a few of them, flying around through the world behind and heading right back out. Vlad kept up his pursuit, following the slippery ghost as best he could. He found during this chase that all of Katou's seemingly useless and aggravating points on the basics of his ghost powers, speed, agility, and even his insistence on self-control all seemed to have reason and meaning as he attempted to catch up. Unfortunately, as the hunt pressed onward, self-control seemed to be the farthest thing from Vlad's state of mind. His frustration built, his anger lit up, and his focus and judgement clouded. Random spectral blasts began flying out from his hands, none of which made their mark and caused quite a bit of damage to both doors and the realms behind them. The situation worsened as time went by, and Vlad began to forget why he was chasing Eel and that he was in a populated area of The Ghost-Zone. He began to forget the other aspects of Katou's training that would have served him well here. And he began to lose track of where Eel was leading him. All he was interested in was catching the slippery ghost-fish and slicing him into pieces.

After about a half-hour, Eel seemed to take a definite course. He headed for a plain-looking door off by itself at his right (where exactly in The Ghost-Zone they were, Vlad had lost a while ago). He rammed into it hard with his head, breaking it open and flying inside. The world behind this door consisted of a single yet elaborate building that seemed to come right out of the 1930s. A blend of Italian architecture and art deco, it was an apartment complex surrounded by sidewalk and by a cobblestone road that just seemed to fade away, leaving only the impressive-sized structure to take up most of the space. Vlad took in none of this – he saw Eel slide through an open window, and he followed suit. Not small enough to slide through, he settled for breaking through.

The hallways in the building were dark, sepia-toned lights from the ceiling the only source of light. Dark wood floors, rich oak doors, and panelling on the walls made the room seem even darker than it actually was. Though everything seemed as though it was kept clean, this place looked as though it had been around and lived in for a good long while. Vlad looked around suspiciously. Eel had vanished, leaving no trace as to where he had gone. Yet Vlad felt as though he were not alone in this place. Someone was watching him. He summoned up his sword and scabbard, pulling out his blade. He slowly lifted off the ground, keeping himself alert as he began to float forward.

"_Non si muova!_" Vlad whirled around, touching back down on the floor and adopting an offensive stance. Two ghosts stood before him, black handguns drawn. Both of them looked very different from anyone Vlad had seen in the Order in that they did not have their natural skin colour. They were both blue. Beyond that, they looked like figures out of an old gangster film from the 30s, dressed in black Italian suits with thin white lines, black bowlers resting on their heads, and gloves covering their hands. One had five o' clock shadow; the other was clean-shaven. Both looked shocked, enraged, and afraid all at once. Vlad glared back at them fiercely for a few moments, and deathly silence consumed the hallway. In those few moments, the three of them in the hallway were all there was in existence.

"_... goccia la spada!_" the ghost with the shadow finally sputtered, his gun hand beginning to shake. Vlad just gave him a smug grin. He let loose a blast from his sword, aiming it just centimetres away from the feet of his two adversaries. They jumped back with a yelp, and the one with the shaking hand fired his gun. Instead of a bullet, a small, round shot of spectral energy flew out, and Vlad quickly raised up an ecto-wall with his free hand. He fired off another blast once he had dropped the shield and turned to flee down the hall, set to track down Eel once more. He three other ghosts dressed in the same way as the first blocking his exit – and one of them had what looked like some kind of machine gun. He wasted no time in using it, and Vlad had to conjure up an ecto-dome to protect himself. As he faced this continuous round of ecto-shots, more and more ghosts began coming into the hallway, all of them armed and all of them dressed similarly. Vlad suddenly decided that retreat wasn't a bad strategy given the situation. As the ghost with the machine gun ran out of ammo, Vlad lowered the shield and looked around, searching for an exit.

"_Cada la spada e metta le vostre mani nell'aria!_" one of the ghosts shouted. Vlad could tell what language they were speaking, though he didn't understand a word of Italian. He did, however, get the feeling that they weren't saying anything friendly. He just smiled, re-sheathed his blade, and stood up straight. A blue-white ghost ring shot out across his middle, splitting in two and moving along his body. Soon, Vlad Masters stood in human form. Every single one of his ghost opponents looked as though they had been socked in the jaw. Weapons began falling, gasps and yells escaped throats, and someone went running down the hall.

"_Che cosa è lui?_" he heard someone shout. Vlad's cocky grin just grew wider.

"Ta," he said lightly, and he slowly began to phase through the floor of the building. More gasps, more shouts, and now full-out screams began to echo around the hall. One ghost, however, kept some of his nerve. He fired off a weapon that sent a glowing green rope at Vlad's still-tangible shoulders, wrapping around them tightly. A current of energy made its way from the rope into Vlad's body, firing a sting into every nerve, cell, and tissue of his being. Fo a brief moment he tried to contemplate how a ghost-weapon could affect his human form, but the sting befan taking its toll on his mind as well. He knew one way to remedy the situation. Transforming back into ghost form and flying back up, he managed to get one hand to grab the rope and prepared to send back his own stinger. However, his desire to end his pain led to a momentary disregard for his surroundings. Another blast from another gun caught both his hands and his legs in handcuffs comprised entirely of ectoplasm. With that binding on his feet, even if he had gone human again, he couldn't phase through the floor. The ghost who had fired that shot, a grim-looking figure with a bulldog-like face, stepped forward. He walked right up to his prisoner, looking straight into Vlad's eyes, which now didn't have quite the cocky glare they had just had moments before.

"_Venuto con me_," he said bluntly, using his gun to motion towards the still cut-off hall.

"_Che cosa state facendo?_" another ghost, a thin, fragile-looking one, stepped forward,"_Questo uomo è un intruso! Conoscete le regole del Luchesi circa gli intrusi!_"

"_Penso che questo potrebbe avere certo uso a Luchesi,_" the grim ghost replied, "_Sembra essere fantasma a metà umano e mezzo. Forse può allora fare l'un lavoro per Luchesi?_" at this statement, the sentiment of shock and fear among all the ghosts was replaced by a sudden realisation, as though this one bulldog-faced member of their group had hit upon a note of genius. The hall was immediately cleared up, and the grim ghost and a hefty ghost with a scar on his chin dragged Vlad off.

---

For the past few months, Vlad Masters had been getting more self-confident by the day. He was always sure that the benefits of any situation were meant for him, he had been looking out for himself, and he did it with a self-assurance that he deserved what he was getting and that, by hook or by crook, he would get it. Since the incident with the smoke he had become a cocky, self-serving individual with an otherworldly advantage over anyone in the real world who stood in his way. Yet now, with his means of escape cut off and his fate in the hands of these thugs, all of that seemed to melt away. He wasn't the confident man he had been growing into, and he wasn't his old college self. All he seemed to be now was a tiny little shell of an individual that was filled up with fear.

The two ghosts dragged him along the hallways, never stopping, never speaking. They pulled their prisoner up two flights of stairs and down hallways that seemed to become increasingly dark. Whether it was actually the fault of the building or all in Vlad's mind he would never know, but as they went on, more of the lights seemed to be dead, and the few that were left were near-gone and very bleak. The air (or whatever was in The Ghost-Zone) seemed to get thinner, and Vlad found his breath getting more raspy by the minute. For the second time today he was covered in sweat, and this time it wasn't from anything physical.

What was going to happen to him? How could he have gotten himself into this mess? How could he have been so stupid? He tried any excuse he could find to relieve him of some of his misery. It had to be Jack's fault – the accident must have dulled his senses. Katou must not have given him the proper training. He kept going over all his old excuses, trying to fix the blame, but for the first time in two years, he finally began to grasp that not everything could be blamed on Jack, not everything was another man's fault and not everything was meant to suit him.

It was his own fault he was in this mess – and he would have to face the consequences.

The ghosts continued to drag him along in what seemed like and endless maze of halls, stairways, and an ever-diminishing light source. Finally, at the end of one hallway, they stopped in front of a lone door. The two men made no move to open it. They seemed to be waiting. Even through his panic, Vlad managed to hear through the door the conversation going on inside.

"_Era di destra dalla sede sul lago_," a nervous voice was saying, "_Era di destra là. Mi non dica che sia stato giusto là pescare, perché non uscirebbe quello lontano. Stanno rintracciandoli giù! Dobbiamo ora muoversi!_"

"_Distendasi, tony, distendasi_," a stronger, authoritative voice replied, "_Chi era comunque esso?_"

"_Guyart!_" the nervous voice practically screamed. The stronger voice laughed jovially.

"_Guyart!_" he managed to get out, "_Siete preoccupati per lui? È un dandy! Se fosse Katou o Arthur o Shao-lin, quindi avremmo qualcosa preoccuparsi circa, ma Guyart? Vi preoccupate troppo, il mio amico_."

"_È sul consiglio fondante dell'ordine!_"

"_Pensate che marche lui grande e pericoloso? Può combattere con una spada, ma è in nessun posto vicino agli altri. Lascilo pescare. Se altri escono, passeremo ancora, ma per ora, desidero rimanere qui. Ciò è un buon posto per la famiglia_," at that, the two ghosts decided it was alright to go inside. They opened the door and dragged Vlad in.

Though he hadn't seen who was talking and couldn't understand the language, Vlad knew instantly who had said what. The nervous voice had come from a ghost who was leaning against a writing desk. He had yellow-green skin, dark circles around his eyes, and very greasy, messy black hair that hung down over his eyes. He was tall and thin, and everything about him suggested that he was a nervous soul by nature. His appearance made him seem sickly, and every part of his body seemed to be trembling to some degree. He was dressed in the same kind of suit as the guards who held Vlad, but he had a rose on his jacket and he had no hat.

Behind the writing desk in a very comfortable-looking chair sat the other ghost. He was a big-looking, powerful individual, with broad shoulders and a stocky build. He also had yellow-green skin, but there was nothing sickly or nervous about him. He was balding, with sideburns and a well-trimmed goatee being the sole remainder of his follicles, and his eyes were a blazing yellow colour. He was dressed in a tan suit, the collar on his jacket pulled up to his neck. A cool grey trench coat hung on the back of his chair, and fedora of the same colour with a black band sat on the desk.

The room they occupied looked like an office. A window behind the balding ghost looked out towards the door to this realm, and huge bookshelves were up against the side walls. They held plenty of books, but they were also used to stack up old newspapers, to hold small framed photographs, and to display various odd objects. On the left bookshelf, a high-collared white cape with a red lining hung from the top shelf. This room seemed to be the darkest of them all, the only light coming from the glowing outlines of the ghosts – and, for some reason, these two ghosts were outlined in green, giving off such an eerie glow that it would have been better to have no light at all.

The bald ghost turned his yellow eyes towards the three latest arrivals in what appeared to be his office, fixing them with an unnerving gaze.

"_Che cosa è la materia con voi?_" he yelled at the two ghosts who held Vlad, "_Sapete non alla chiatta dentro quando sto maneggiando il commercio!_"

"_Abbiamo un intruso_," the ghost on Vlad's left said, yanking on his prisoner's arm and getting a slight guttural to come from the young man's throat.

"_Conoscete che cosa fare con lui!_" the bald ghost shouted. He was clearly annoyed by whatever these two were saying.

"_Questo ha potuto essere buon da introdurre nella famiglia_," the ghost to Vlad's left continued, "_È un po'differente_."

"_Come?_" the bald ghost demanded.

"_È fantasma soltanto mezzo. La metà di lui è ancora essere umano_," at these words, the two ghosts across the room seemed to have some silent dam in their mind break open in shock. The nervous-looking ghost, who had been suspiciously eyeing Vlad the entire time, began to shake as though he had been left out into the cold for hours (he shook so much, in fact, that his hands slid off the desk and he landed face-first on the floor). The bald ghost's eyebrows shot up, and both pure shock and realisation filled up within his eyes, as though he had found the solution to a puzzle that had long plagued him.

"_Siedalo giù_," he said, regaining his composure quickly (his companion remained on the floor, out cold). He pointed to the chair that was across from him by the writing desks. The two ghosts who held Vlad dragged him over and threw him into the chair, moving towards the back of the room again. Vlad managed to get himself to meet the ghost before him eye-to-eye, but he couldn't get his breath to calm or get his body to stop shaking.

"_Parlate italiano?_" the ghost asked, leaning forward and focusing his glare. Vlad said nothing, still trying to keep himself from looking away and making a futile escape attempt.

"_Parlate italiano?_" the ghost repeated, a bit more forcefully this time. Not knowing what else to do, Vlad managed a very weak and intimidated smile.

"P-pardon?" he managed to get his vocal chords to say. The ghost sighed and sat back against his chair.

"You don't speak Italian, do you?" he asked in perfect English, though he retained a thick accent. The fact that he knew Vlad's language didn't bring the young man any ease.

"N-no. No I don't, sir," he gasped. The ghost nodded.

"You've likely heard of me, but I doubt you've seen my face. I am Vito Luchesi, and I welcome you to the current centre of business for The Ghost-Zone Family." Realisation now flooded Vlad's mind, and he felt like a complete idiot for not having grasped that fact before. It also made him feel even more fearful of what his fate was to be.

"You have a name?" Luchesi asked, bringing Vlad back to the immediate conversation.

"Vlad Masters," he quickly said, his breathing more uneven than ever now. Luchesi nodded slowly.

"_Stava trasportando una spada come il samurai capo dall'ordine_," the ghost who had been at Vlad's right suddenly said from the back. Luchesi put on a smug little smile.

"So you carry a sword like that of Katou, do you?" he continued to nod, "You a member of the Order?"

"No," despite his dread of what was to come, Vlad managed to fill his voice with defiance in that one word, "Katou has been training me to control my powers, but I doubt I'll stick around once I've found out everything I need to know," Luchesi nodded again.

"Good to know," he said, "And you've done something your master and all the Order's never been able to do. You found out right where we are. Now, that makes you an intruder, your realise. And we have a rule about intruders – they come in. They don't come out," Vlad gulped. His momentary defiance quickly fell away, and his mind began preparing itself for the worst demise imaginable.

"But for you, I make an exception," Luchesi rose out of his chair. Though he was of average height, his build and his attitude made him seem like a giant, "I do this because I am told you are only half-ghost, and that you can turn back into a human. Is this true?"

"Yes, sir," it was Vlad's turn to nod. He didn't know where this was going, but he now sensed that he had a window of opportunity here, and it seemed wise to take it.

"If you swear on the life of the one you love most that you will not escape, I will have your bindings removed, and you can show me," Luchesi said, "But if you try to escape, we will catch you before you can, and then you won't be going out," the way he spoke those words left one feeling in no state of mind to ignore them.

"You have my word," Vlad said, swearing on Maddie's life. Luchesi nodded and snapped his fingers. The ghost who had been at Vlad's left pulled out the gun he used to fire the handcuffs and hit a button in it. The confinements faded away into nothing. Vlad stretched his arms and legs out a bit, then stood up.

"Alright," he sighed. He threw his hands over his head, and a blue-white ring shot out across his middle, splitting in two and moving along his body. Soon he stood in human form, in a perfect position to escape. But he wasn't about to disregard Luchesi's warning. Besides, he had sworn on Maddie's life. The rings appeared again, and soon he was back in ghost-mode. The ghosts behind him let out gasps once again, and the nervous-looking ghost was still out cold, but Luchesi's grin grew wider and he gave Vlad a brief round of applause.

"Very good," he said, "Very good. Sit down," they both did so, "I take it Katou or the Order have told you about us?"

"Yes, sir."

"Very good. Have they mentioned anything to you about how anyplace where the Family does business makes no progress with technology or science or anything like that?"

"Yes…"

"Do you know why?" Vlad shook his head, "Neither do they. But I will tell you why. If you've spent any time going over this and have come up with some great conspiracy theories or such, then get them out of your head now. We have a very simple reason for keeping all these sciences quiet, and that reason is business.

"When we first came into The Ghost-Zone, we needed new forms of business. A lot of our specialities from the real world didn't apply here. We did all right with a couple things, yes, but on a big scale that could really help us out there was nothing. There wasn't much luck finding good markets when there were the seven mobs, so when I put together the Family, I made it my priority. I found t that in The Ghost-Zone here, the ghosts love real-world items. Stuff from the real world that makes it in here. Boxes, bottles, instruments, remotes, batteries, telephones, wires, broken toys, you name it, but the thing that most ghosts were after was technology. The latest advances in science and machinery. Ghost scientists started getting these things or what was left of them, and with their ghost-powers, they made super machines of all kinds. The ghosts in the Order only use what's here in The Ghost-Zone, and they never made any real weapons, but they were coming up with some good stuff too. This was our market. But Walker made real-world items illegal to have. This made our involvement in this business only more profitable. But the ghost scientists and all the ghosts who gathered this stuff up…they became competition for us, you see, and we were losing to them in a few spots.

"So, we started to shut down our biggest competition. We bought them out, we welcomed them into the Family, we…persuaded them to shut down, and in some cases…well, we'll say that ghosts aren't completely immortal," at that, Vlad eyed the spot on his belt where his sword usually materialised when he summoned it forth. He still didn't know where this was going.

"We also began shutting down smaller ghosts," Luchesi continued, "and when we went into the Order, we started to shut them up too. We shut them all up. We stopped them from making anymore progress. Anything they had that was ahead of our technology, we either bought, took, or destroyed. We convinced them to say nothing of any of this and to just go on with their lives. We bought up everything. Now, thanks to this, we are the only ghosts in this whole lousy dimension that supply any kind of real-world stuff, technology in particular. Walker and the Order can't find us, we do our business behind doors, and anyone who can threaten the deal we shut up. It's the best business we've had alive or dead.

"There's just one little problem with all this. The super machines with the ghost-parts in them sell big, but the normal human stuff from the modern-day sells for more. But natural portals into the real world are hard to find, and Walker's been shutting them down as he finds them. We haven't had any major breakthroughs in finding technology or stuff that's drifted in for years. Eventually the supply's gonna go empty and we won't have anything new. And that," he pointed at Vlad, "is where you come in. You don't live here, do you?"

"No."

"So you found a portal?"

"I have a man-made one that I…built," finally beginning to relax, Vlad allowed himself to grin a little.

'_Serves Jack right,'_ he thought.

"You made a portal to The Ghost-Zone? No natural portal, no secret door? You made one?" Luchesi looked like he had been hit in the face. Vlad just nodded.

"Even better," Luchesi gave him a big grin, "Here's why we're letting you go, and here's what I'm thinking you can do. Now, we have real money here in the Family. If you go back to the real-world, I still know how to handle things there. We play around a bit, make some anonymous payments and set up some shadowed accounts, _che cosa voi sanno_, we set you up as a legitimate business in the real-world. We give you a name, a background, we forward you some of the super machines from here, and you make some noise in the market. This gets you in with some of the big shots on the business scene. These guys will have big things in the works. Machines, devices…all of them under wraps until they're ready for the world to know. Once you get in with this crowd and make friends with the right people, they'll start letting you in with their circle of friends who they show this stuff off to. You find out all about these toys. What they do, how to work 'em, _everything_. You pass it along to us. At night, when everyone in those buildings has gone home, you lead my boys to the place. You'll take it, you'll pass it along to me, and we'll put it onto our markets. You get a good amount of what we make in the business, we keep making your company big, you're a huge man in the real-world and there's no way you can get traced back to us or accused of taking that equipment if you use your ghost-powers. That is my plan for you. Now, what do you say?"

"I…" Vlad had to struggle to say just that. This deal…he had an entire life laid out for him with this! If this "business" was as profitable as Luchesi was telling him, and if he was really in for a fair share of the money, he could become a very rich man practically overnight. No one could trace a crime committed by ghosts to him. He'd be in the clear from any charges. All that money and the access to that kind of technology could help him with his inventions. Heck, with The Ghost-Zone and all that wealth getting his inventions made, he could revolutionise the entire paranormal field! And with that status in society, he could get access to information. He could find Maddie. And he could find Jack. And with the Order in the dark about The Ghost-Zone Family for the most part, he wouldn't be caught by them. This Family could actually help him take down Jack. It was a perfect deal!

And yet…a voice in his mind, heart and soul…the one that had once governed his life, the one he had cast aside…

That one part of him seemed to regain strength for this moment and was determined to resist going into this arrangement. It was illegal, immoral, and self-serving, as was this entire organisation. No matter what the rewards, going into the Family was _wrong_.

But was this even his choice?

"I don't know," he finally finished with a hard, forced breath. He had no idea what to expect next. A deadly silenced filled the room. Vlad's mind pictured everything from being led out of the building to being shot with a ghost-gun right in that chair. He waited, the only sound being his quivering breaths. Finally, Luchesi nodded once again.

"You think about it," he said in an understanding voice, "I don't want you in this if you don't want to. I really think you should want to do this if you're going to. You go home, and you think about it. Come back here tomorrow morning, and we'll talk it out. If you say no, then you will be free if you swear as you did before that you will not say where we are. My two boys that brought you in here will see it out. Go home and think about it," he waved towards the door, and Vlad felt both relief and a new form of dread flood into his body at once.

"Thank you, sir," he gulped. He slowly rose up out of his chair, turned towards his two escorts, and headed for the door.

---

It might have been May, but it was a cold night. Old Man Winter had one last frost in store for Wisconsin before he moved back up north, and it was quite the strong one at that. Icy frost rested over everything from the rooftops and lawn grass to the leaves on the trees, all of it glistening from the light of a full moon. In the park just outside Milwaukee, where most signs of human life were absent, it made for a truly magical setting.

It was over this mystical view that Vlad hovered. He had a black overcoat and gloves over his usual clothes to fend off the cold. He took no notice of the beauty of the night around him. He could barely remember flying out here in the first place. He didn't remember grabbing his coat. He didn't remember coming out of the Proto-Portal and back into his apartment. He didn't even remember flying through The Ghost-Zone with his two escorts. All he remembered was Luchesi's deal, and what it could do for him and to him.

The part of him that had been brought forth by the incident with the smoke and his thirst for revenge kept telling him he had nothing to lose. He held none of the jobs he had been working at in high esteem. They had just been means for him to get by with his basic day-to-day necessities. He had made no real friends. Every one of his associates and fellow employees had either been obstacles or a means by which to claw his way up. The only other ghosts with whom he had an alliance were a group of foolish old idealists whose principles went against the course that Vlad had chosen for his life. Katou never let him progress in training. He was living in an apartment, he didn't have the money to build his ghost-weapons, the love of his life was likely miles away, and the idiotic, bumbling oaf who had ruined his life had gone away with her. Accepting this deal would give him the money he needed to build his devices, and his role in this company would be that of a leader. Gone, then, would be his days of playing his cards right with his "superiors." He could get a real house. And he would have the power to track down Maddie and Jack. The Ghost-Zone Family and all of its power and membership could help him with much of his agenda and other things that the Order wouldn't have anything to do with. To hell with the code of the Order! To hell with Walker! And to hell with the laws of the real-world! This deal offered a whole new life for him, the window to his revenge, and most importantly of all, the key to getting his love back. If that meant allying himself with the Mafia, then so be it.

But the Vlad from his college days had chosen this one crucial moment to regain some strength and control, and the conflict began. Every cell in his body and every part of his soul was in agreement that what Jack did deserved vengeance, but his old self was not willing to let Vlad corrupt himself just for that. The easy route wasn't always the best one to take. There would be another time. Luchesi and the Family were not to be trusted. They had their own interests at heart, not Vlad's. Hidden agendas and broken promises were the norm when making deals in crime. And with powers as unique as his, Luchesi would likely call upon Vlad to do other things for him – possibly even more unpleasant. He didn't _need _the Family. He had ghost allies already. Katou and the Order may have had philosophies that were against what Vlad wanted to do, and that prevented any true friendship, but Katou at least seemed to genuinely care what happened to him. He had his entire life ahead of him for his plans. A better home, his ghost-weapons, revenge on Jack…even Maddie could wait for a better time. The price he would have to pay for a chance at a new life now just wasn't worth it.

Still another voice that didn't seem like it belonged to Vlad at all was expressing worry not over the choice before him, but what would happen if it ever got out that he knew where the Mafia was, regardless of his decision over the deal. If he went with the deal and it got out, the Order would come after him. They might not come after him for betrayal, but they would come after him for going into the illegal empire. The Family would definitely come after him for betraying them. And he would have this Walker to deal with as well. If he didn't go with the deal and it got out, he might be safe from the Order, but the Family was large, Luchesi was slippery, and he'd likely have a price on his head. And even if the information didn't get out, if he turned the deal down, what guarantee did he have that Luchesi would keep his word and let him go? What assurance did he have that he wouldn't get shot in the back as he flew away?

Just hours ago, Vlad was sure of himself, who he was, what he needed to do, and what his life was going to be. Now, with his old self back, a third voice in his ear, and a massive decision laid out before him, it was as though he were an empty shell playing host to warring spirits.

The breeze suddenly picked up, and a rush of cold air pushed Vlad backwards. His heart felt no difference between the outside temperature and the hollow feeling within him, but his mind recognised that the temperature was dropping, and that the way the wind was speeding up, it was unwise to fly back to the apartment. Besides, he was tired, and more time going home meant more time to think. He flew up to the nearest main highway and touched down behind a building, going back into human form. He then stepped out and hailed a cab. He quickly gave out the address to his apartment and slipped into the back seat with a sigh. With all that was going on inside it, his head seemed to weigh a ton.

So wrapped up in his burden, was he, that he didn't even notice that someone else was in the cab with him until a suitcase on the floor nudged itself against his feet at a turn and he looked to see who it belonged to.

"Harriet?" he asked with surprise. He never expected to see her after that last visit. His old classmate was looking tired but well off; her job as a reporter was apparently going well. She was dressed in a green-yellow business suit and a greyish-green overcoat, a copy of _The Milwaukee Journal_ in her lap under her purse. She was touching up her make-up when she turned to see who had spoken. She stared at Vlad with a confused expression on her face. She didn't seem to recognise him (and with the ecto-acne and his long hair gone, it was an understandable mistake.)

"It's Vlad," he said, smiling slightly, "Vlad Masters," _now_ she remembered.

"Hello Vlad!" she said, also smiling, "Didn't think I'd see you ever again! It's been a year, hasn't it?" Vlad began to nod, but she kept going.

"Well, I have had the most exhausting day. I flew all the way out to Massachusetts and back in less than twenty-four hours. I would have spent the night, but I had to come back. There's a hot assignment and they want me to do it. I think they said on the phone that it had something to do with the situation in Ubekastan. Well, it's probably best that I did leave right away – wouldn't want to keep the newly weds busy before their honeymoon! So, I…"

"Newly-weds?" Vlad interrupted. Any thoughts of the deal and all his issues with it seemed to be wiped from his mind. He had something else to worry about now. He might just be jumping to conclusions, but…his social status had kept him out of many things in college, but he didn't know anyone else who could get Harriet to go out to their wedding who had moved…

"Why exactly were you in Massachusetts, my dear?" he asked. He tried to sound polite, but his voice ended up deadly serious. Harriet took no notice.

"Maddie," she said simply, "She and Jack moved to Amity Park after college. It's a nice enough town, but Boston would have been a better place to live. Come to think of it, they shouldn't have gone out to the coast at all. They should have moved to Illinois. Illinois is closer so I don't have to travel as much when they invite me to see them, and…"

"Yes, yes, yes, but why did they invite you out?" This was really worrying him now.

"Oh, that. Well," her smile became bigger and much more genuine, "It seems that Jack might be a bit more mature than I gave him credit for. He popped the question, Maddie said yes, and now the two of them are married!"

'…_The two of them are married…'_

Six words.

Six simple, common, familiar words.

The six words that killed the old Vlad Masters.

Inside his mind, he could hear the distant scream of his old self as the words drove through his skull and pierced through him like a knife. The scream echoed around the inside of his head. Even after his old self had long since withered away he could still hear the echoes of that scream. As that scream and those six words completely overtook his mind, heart, and soul, he completely lost sense of everything around him. He didn't hear the rest of what Harriet was telling him or notice when she was dropped off at the headquarters of the Journal. He didn't see the cab pull up in front of his apartment and he didn't notice that he accidentally gave the cab driver a 50-dollar bill. He didn't feel his legs moving as he walked up the stairs. When he came to his room, he didn't feel how cold the doorknob was when he turned it, his eyes didn't notice how dark it was inside the room, and he didn't remember to hit the light switch. He didn't even notice that he had sat down on the bed. The only thing he was aware of was his eyes closing as the scream finally faded away and the words imprinted themselves into part of his mind.

A single breath left his body in a cold, icy hiss like that of a threatened cobra. An involuntary shudder went down his spine, arching his back like that of an enraged cat. And a low, hollow, barely audible voice hissed out the sentence words that Vlad hated above all others.

"The two of them are married."

His eyes shot open. Every part of his eye – pupil, iris, white – everything was now a hot glowing blue, casting an eerie hue on the skin surrounding his eye. An invisible, soundless wave of energy shot out from all around him. The sheets on his bed rustled. The shades on the windows swayed back and forth. And, with the Proto-Portal somehow being the only thing to avoid his wrath, everything in the room that had some electricity was destroyed. The TV screen shattered, smoke flying out from behind it. The light bulb cracked and the glass went flying all around the room. Smoke began to drift out of the fan. The alarm clock and reading lamp that rested on a table beside his bed both shorted out. And, as the smoke began to clear, the room began to settle down, and Vlad's eyes finally began to take on a more human appearance, the fire inside him against Jack seemed to shoot up out of his heart and consume his entire being.

His mind was made up. He knew what to do about the deal. He knew what he had to do now. But he couldn't think about that right now. He could sort it out in the morning, when he went back to see Luchesi. All he could stand to do for now was burn in his own hate.

"_Jack_," the word came from his mouth, but the voice that said sounded more like a snarling lion than a human being.

---

"So, have you made up your mind?"

Vlad was back in The Ghost-Zone, back in the northwest area of the Order, back in the headquarters of The Ghost-Zone Family, and back in Luchesi's office. He sat across from Luchesi again. The same two guards from before stood inside the door, and the nervous-looking ghost was still there, leaning on the table. Six other ghosts were with them this time, all of them in fine Italian suits. They stayed back in the shadows, so Vlad couldn't really see their faces, but he guessed from what the Order had told him that those six and the nervous-looking ghosts were the bosses of the mobs before the Family was born.

"Have you?" Luchesi asked again, and indeed Vlad had. He had finally worked everything out over a painful and restless night. He was still burning from the flames, and the six words continued to echo in his mind. But with his old self gone for good, his mind was clear of one of its duellists, leaving the Vlad from the incident with the smoke to take over. He knew exactly what his decision was, and he had no regrets.

"Mr. Luchesi, you have yourself a businessman," he grinned, and Luchesi did the same.

"That's what I wanted to hear," his tone was jovial, but something in it told Vlad that this choice was also keeping him alive, "Vlad Masters, welcome to the Family," he snapped his fingers, and instantly his writing desk was cleared of papers. In their place were a wine bottle and eight glasses.

"I want you to meet the people you'll be reporting to along with me," he got up, motioning for Vlad to do the same, "They are my closest associates. They used to be the bosses of the small mobs before I made the Family. This here is Tony," he pointed at the sickly-looking ghost, who nodded back, "And these six," he motioned towards the six in the shadows, going from left to right, "are Armando, Fredo, Sonny, Pappi, Roberto, Ramono, Michael, and Phil," of these six, only Phil made any motion when his name was called, giving a slight wave.

"And now," Luchesi filled the eight glasses with the green, glowing liquid that rested inside the wine bottle, "A little toast. To the newest member of the Family. I expect you will be a great help to us, and best of luck in your duty," he lifted up his glass. Vlad took one and was about to take a sip when –

"Just so you know, that's raw ectoplasm there. Might be a bit strong for you," Vlad held the glass away from his mouth. His new self remembered what Katou had told his old self about raw ectoplasm – but Katou wasn't here. He drained his entire glass in a single gulp. He began to lean against the table as he began to grow dizzy and he began to cough. The glow around his body went bright and faded back again, an icy cold and a rush of power poured through his veins, and, though he couldn't see it, his eyes briefly flashed green. It only took a few moments for the feeling to pass.

"Cheers," he smiled up at the head of the Family. He poured himself another glass as the seven advisors took theirs, his mind full of images of his new future – and this time, no foolish, nagging sentimental voice from the past spoiled his fun.


	10. First Meeting

Vlad sat at the right side of a long table, the last in a row of ten people. He was dressed in a fine black Armani suit, a high-collared grey shirt underneath. As a final touch, he had a red string bow tie and a little red handkerchief in the pocket of his jacket. He hadn't shaved, but he did clean himself up pretty well for this. He couldn't help but feel a bit stiff and uncomfortable, but it was understandable. This _was_ his first major business meeting.

Luchesi's plan couldn't have gone more smoothly. He sent Armando, Fredo, and Phil out into the real world to set everything up. The investments were made, the accounts were established, and the necessary acquisitions were acquired. Vlad quit his job at the restaurant, employees were hired, and within a few weeks, Dalv was born. Vlad had chosen the name himself. It was simple, it was unassuming, it didn't draw attention to itself, and it was his.

Located in a fair-sized building in downtown Milwaukee, Dalv was established a small-sized company specialising in electronics, machinery, and all forms of technological science. At Vlad's insistence, a division was set up to work in paranormalcy and spectral weaponry – and it was this division that Vlad was giving most of his time. It was kept secret to avoid any negative publicity, but the inventions that Vlad really wanted to see done were given over to this section of the company. His employees were about as successful as he had been, but with many of them working, it was hoped that something could turn out right.

The company seemed to come from nowhere, but its legitimacy was never called into question. As far as anyone in the real world could tell, all of its accounts and divisions were valid and legitimate. None of its business transactions or deals had anything crooked about them. About the only thing that seemed strange about the place was that none of the employees ever actually met their boss face to face. Vlad always had them send their ideas along to him through notices, telephone calls, and bulletins, and he always gave his approval through a memo. He never went out to check how things were going and he was always the last to leave at the end of the day. No one ever quit over it, but it made one's work environment seem very alien. Vlad's excuse was that he had a busy schedule, but the truth was that he really didn't care. He didn't want to put up with a lot of meetings with his inferiors, and he didn't care what his employees did, what they made, or how they made it. All he cared about was that it got him the money and power he needed. And it wasn't as though he completely cut himself off from the rest of his company. He spent plenty of time in the lab set up for spectral weaponry, trying to put together prototypes for his own devices. That may have been the one part of the company kept secret from everyone else, but it was something.

Dalv wasn't a large or profitable company yet. That would have to wait. For some strange reason, though his impatience with training had affected how he viewed Katou and his impatience in getting revenge haunted him day and night, for this one thing he was willing to wait. He was willing to follow Luchesi's plan, willing to execute patience, and willing to go through all the necessary steps to insure the company's longevity. It was unexplainable. A split had gone through his mind, sorting plans between those he was willing to execute patience on and those he couldn't wait for any longer.

Dalv had made some money with a few minor devices and inventions that his employees had come up with. Their most successful patent was a special type of microwave that cooked food so close to the selected settings that it had never once gotten any complaint on how well it worked. The success of this microwave and its unique design were what won Vlad his meeting today. He had taken credit for the design himself and had attributed its efficiency to superior technology and engineering, but it had been made by a scientist on the payroll of the Family in The Ghost-Zone – and its spectral nature was the secret to how the microwave worked.

Dalv obviously demanded a great deal of Vlad's time, and the need for secrecy in the paranormal division kept him there well into the wee hours of the night. The story he presented as an alibi to Katou was half-true; he said that he had gotten a new job that offered promising opportunity, but it kept him busy late at night. Katou seemed to accept this excuse, and nothing more was made of it, but Vlad was very careful about what he said and how acted around the old samurai now. What Katou knew about Vlad's life away from him was only to be what Vlad deemed safe for him to know. He had been watching how he behaved, what he said…even what he thought whenever he was in the samurai's presence. If he got any wind of Vlad's new alliance…even thinking about it could send chills along Vlad's spine.

The meeting Vlad now found himself in was being held by a large company called Yensid Corporation. Like Dalv, they specialised in science and electronics, but they had many smaller companies under their control, business dealings across the seas, and a much larger market. The CEO was a bit of an eccentric, absent-minded fellow. He had a high, grating voice, a wild mane of white hair, sunglasses, and a long white coat. His name was Nicolai Technus, and he treated his job as though it was a way of life. He had called Vlad, along with several other leaders of promising companies, to this meeting in the hope of working out a successful deal in which their companies could merge with Yensid and work on several projects they had in development. It was not going well. Technus was a master at long-winded speeches. He could go on and on and on, and he had a knack for always backing up into declarations about himself during the conversation. It was easy to get the point of what he was saying, but he repeated it so many times that interest fled that room like a deer running away from a wolf pack. Vlad was the only person who had been called to the meeting who wasn't asleep or showing his boredom by some dull action. This could be a huge break for him, and he wasn't letting anyone or anything stand in the way.

"And so," Technus finally seemed to be winding down, "in conclusion, I, Nicolai Technus, CEO and leading expert at all forms of electrical technology, am offering you and your smaller-scale companies a chance to merge with Yensid and develop my many secret devices, including the Ultra-Computer, a machine so vast and intelligent, it would have the power to control and program every machine in the world! Not that I have an agenda or anything," their host finally finished, the businessmen began to wake up. Quiet discussion began to take over as they debated the pros and cons of the proposition before them. The groups of conversation never held more than three people, but all were engaged…except Vlad Masters. He sat back and waited as the others went on with their little talks. He kept his eyes on Technus. The eccentric CEO was going from group to group, putting in words encouraging the merger and occasionally trying to sound "with it" by bringing up topics of conversation that "the kids" apparently discussed. Vlad watched him go around the room, waiting patiently and gently drumming his fingers along the table. After a few minutes, Technus finally sat back down at his chair at the head of the table – and Vlad's chair was at his right.

"Interesting idea for an Ultra-Computer you have there," Vlad said smoothly, getting the conversation going.

"Oh, yes," Technus always seemed eager to talk, "And there's more to it than that. For I, Technus, have an ultimate dream to use this Ultra-Computer that I have designed as a means by which to download my entire mind into my technology and spread my intellect to every machine in the world!" he had said that rather loudly, and thus, everyone else in the room was now eyeing him with either bewilderment or suspicion.

"Eh…" the CEO seemed unable to find an alibi. Vlad decided to give him one so that they could get on with it.

"A most amusing performance," he laughed, "I can see you are a great fan of science fiction. Tell me, did you ever consider a career in theatre before settling with technology?" Technus seemed confused for a moment, but he soon caught on.

"Oh…oh yes! Yes indeed! I, Technus, did in fact consider a stage career at one point!" he leaned over towards Vlad and dropped his voice to a whisper, "That was a close one. Whew, I need some water!" there was water jug on the table in the upper left corner of the room, just a few steps away from where they were sitting. Vlad let a small smile come to his lips. His initial uncomfortable feeling had gone from his mind. This was the type of moment he had been hoping to get. He had brought along something special to show off at a time like this.

"Allow me," he pushed back the sleeve of his jacket, revealing a silver watch with a glowing green face. He moved his hand to be on a line with the water jug, hit a small button on the side, and a green light came out from the face. It expanded toward the water jug, stopping once it reached the paper cup dispenser attached to the jug. The light seemed to focus in on the paper cup hanging out at the bottom of the dispenser. The cup jiggled around a bit and then smoothly slipped off, hovering in mid-air and basking in the glow of the light. Vlad gracefully moved his arm along. The light from the watch moved along with his arm, and the cup did the same. Soon, the cup was perfectly positioned by the lever that released the water. Vlad hit another button on his watch, and a thin green laser shot out and hit the lever. Water began flowing down into the cup, and not a drop fell to the floor. As soon as the glass was full, Vlad began to turn the piece on his watch that surrounded the face counter-clockwise. As he turned it, the light slowly retracted back towards the watch, and the cup came back with it. Within moments, the cup was hovering right in front of an astonished Technus, whose eyes were bulging out so far it looked as though he would knock his sunglasses off his face.

"Your water," Vlad said slyly. Technus, his eyes still as big as dinner plates, looked from the water to Vlad and back to the water. His jaw dropped and then closed again. As the seconds went by and Technus said and did nothing, Vlad noticed that there was more than one member of his audience. All eyes in the room were on him, and everyone looked just as astonished as their host.

"Oh, baby!" Technus finally screamed after what seemed like an eternity, "That watch is groovy, far out, and totally modern! And the technology…how did you make that thing!?"

"Oh, this?" Vlad innocently said, "It's nothing, really. Just our latest product. We used the same technology from our microwave to put this together," he sighed dramatically, "It's a shame that we'll have to give that up."

"What?" Technus went from ecstatic to confused in no time at all. Making sure that the businessmen had returned to their conversation, Vlad leaned in towards the CEO and dropped his voice down to a whisper.

"I've decided to go ahead with the merger," he said, "It's in the best interests of Dalv and myself. However, our supplier that gets us the technology in my watch and our microwave isn't owned by me, and our deal with them and the conditions of the merger will terminate that area of Dalv, I'm afraid. Ah well, that's business for you."

"Hold on there, booby! If it means obtaining such brilliant technology as that, then I, Technus, am willing to offer you a special deal! Would a partnership allow for your suppliers to stay with you?" Vlad couldn't help but grin. Hook, line, and sinker.

"We'll have to iron out the details, but under those conditions, I think we can work something out."

"Excellent! Now, if you will excuse me," Technus rose out of his chair, "Attention everyone! Have you all decided what course of action you will take regarding the deal proposed by me? Technus!" Nods began going around the room, "Groovy! Then those of you who plan to join with me are invited to come! For I, Technus, have something I would like you all to see!" with the exception of two older-looking men, everyone in the room stood up and followed Technus out the door (for the two that stayed behind, he said that his secretary would show them out). They all headed towards the nearest elevator. It was rather elaborate for an elevator, with finely polished mirrors on the three doorless walls and rich carpeting. Once they were all in, Technus hit a button that Vlad had never seen on an elevator before – UGL. The doors slid shut, and down they went.

There was nothing unusual about the way the elevator worked, but they took a strangely long time to get down to where they were going – and the elevator wasn't really slow. It took them a full two minutes before the thing finally stopped and they walked out. Immediately it became apparent that they were underground. There were no windows, it was significantly colder, and it was very dark. A row of loosely hung, flickering lights down the centre of the ceiling were the only true light source. This room was enormous, seeming to cover the entire area of the foundation of the building. Meeting with the elevator's exit and running down the centre of the room was a catwalk, seven feet above the bottom of the room. Down below the catwalk, giant cubicles, three on each side and divided by concrete walls, held computers, radios, monitor screens, cables, wires…any kind of technology one could think of. Employees in lab-coats and sunglasses went from cubicle to cubicle, checking on various things and taking notes. At the other end of the catwalk there was a large metal door with a large, rotating door handle like that of a bank vault. Technus led his audience towards that door. Vlad occasionally looked over the railing to eye what was going on below, but directed most of his focus forward. He had more important matters to think about.

The walk down the catwalk went quickly enough, and once they reached the door, Technus spun the handle around until the lock clicked.

"Prepare yourselves, friends," he whirled around dramatically, a nutty grin on his face, "For within this vault, you will behold a small sample of the amazing, far out devices that you will be working on for me! Technus!" and with that, he thrust the door open. The door slammed into the steel walls and sent out a loud boom like a kettledrum, and at that sound, Technus dashed into the pitch blackness that had been waiting behind the door. The businessmen stayed behind, looking in towards the uninviting room with a bit of anxiety. Vlad was the only exception. He calmly stepped forward and slipped into the darkness, leaning up against the inside wall. The other businessmen followed soon enough, albeit reluctantly. The sound of a switch being thrown could be made out amidst the darkness. Suddenly, the ceiling seemed to explode with blue lights, casting eerie shadows along all the walls. They were in a small, circular room, with huge black machines with beeping red lights covering most of the walls. In the centre of the room there was a raised platform that held up a red velvet pillow. Resting on that pillow was a small silver orb no bigger than a pea. Technus hovered over it. The eccentric CEO was often unintentionally comical, but now, with the lighting of the room and the insane grin that was plastered on his face, he looked maniacal, unstable, and menacing.

"A mere sphere of metal to the untrained eye," he said dramatically, casting his gaze around the room, "But behold!" he picked it up and pressed the sides. Metal seemed to shoot out in coils from both ends, and it gained mass and diameter. Within three seconds, he held in his hand a coiled metal staff, topped off by a sparking silver ball at the end. He struck a pose as though he were wielding a samurai sword (Vlad couldn't help but smile at how completely off the pose was).

"The Electro-Staff!" Technus declared proudly, "It can serve as a magnet," he rotated one of the coils, and some loose metal lying around the room instantly flew towards the ball and clung on tight, "It can serve as a charging device," he twisted another coil. The metal dropped to the floor, but a long, blazing bolt of electricity leapt from the staff, exploded off into separate currents, and collided with every machine in the room. Instantly all the little red lights grew into blazing green lights, and the luminescence of the light bulbs greatly increased.

"It can even serve as an ordinary flashlight!" Technus yelled over the sizzle of electricity. He turned another coil, and the electricity flew back into the staff as the room calmed down. A simple light shone out of the ball now, and Technus playfully moved it around the room.

"And," he said, his goofy, eccentric air returning, "I, Technus, master of all things electronic and beeping, designed and built this magnificent creation all on my own! But my time is taken up, so many of my dreams are forced to remain blueprints. But with you all at my right hand, all of my brilliant technology shall be realised!" The businessmen looked astounded. Eyes wide and mouths agape, they drifted over towards Technus as if in a trance, chattering mindlessly about the Electro-Staff and reaching out to touch and examine it. Technus just stood by proudly. Vlad remained in his position against the wall. He was as impressed as everyone else over the staff, but for the moment, he had more important things he had to focus on. His mind was busy piecing together a mental map of the building. He was figuring out where this room was in relation to what part of the building was here above ground. And he was going over the mental pictures he had made of how Technus had activated the staff and its many functions. He closed his eyes, tuned out the conversation in front of him, and honed in on his tasks. He remained in this state for several minutes, going over everything multiple times to be sure he had everything right. He became so absorbed in his thought process that he didn't realise that it was time to go until someone tapped him on the shoulder.

"Quite a staff, eh Masters?" the man asked him.

"Oh yes," Vlad smiled as he headed out of the room, "Very impressive," he cast one last look back before Technus shut off the lights and headed out himself.

----

Midnight in Wisconsin might not have been the ideal time to be up and about, but it was far less eerie than in some other parts of the globe. It was a calm, peaceful night, with a half-moon, a gentle northern breeze, and a mild temperature. With the exception of the few stores that remained open around the clock and the night owls who drove around at that hour, every business, home, and vehicle had been shut down hours ago. Yensid was no exception. The only soul left in the building was a night guard at the front desk. The lights were off, the employees had gone home, the doors had been locked, and, save for the security monitors, the technology was off. What remained for the guard to use was state-of-the-art. The monitors could detect things on visual basis. They could run an infrared scan. They could switch over to night vision. They could detect just about anything – except ghosts.

There were five spirits about that night in Yensid, all of them invisible and intangible. Four of the ghosts held back, serving as followers. The fifth was the one who seemed to know where he was going. He led his companions in through the front door and flew only a few feet inside before plunging straight down into the floor. They emerged in a small, circular, pitch-black room. The leading ghost soon touched down, and Vlad Masters looked around the room. He was still dressed in his suit from the day's meeting, but he had added gloves, a long black trench coat, and a grey fedora with a black band and a red flower to his suit. His ghost-powers allowed him to see in the dark, and he remained invisible to avoid setting off the cameras. His four companions drifted in behind them. Two were the ghosts who had taken him to Luchesi – the other two were faceless spirits under the Family's payroll. After a bit of searching, Vlad found what he was looking for.

"Ah," he smiled, "There it is. The Electro-Staff," he reached out and picked up the small metal orb. His mental map had been perfect, they'd gotten in fine, and now he had what he came for.

"Well, mustn't keep Luchesi waiting," he said. He tucked the orb into his coat and headed out, his four men behind him.

----

"Impressive, Vlad. Very impressive," Luchesi gave his approval. They were back in his office. Vlad had just finished recounting the meeting and demonstrated what the Electro-Staff could do to the don and his seven advisors, and it had gone over very well. A call had already been put out to one of the Family's scientists to build more of them.

"I thought you'd like it," Vlad smiled, retracting the staff and setting it on Luchesi's desk, "And while retrieving this little toy, I made a little deal on my own."

"What do you mean?" Tony asked in his usual worried tone.

"Yensid is about to gain a partner," Vlad said simply, "And with enough time, I think I can see to it that the Dalv Company will eventually become the Dalv Corporation."

"Excellent," Luchesi clapped, "Keep thinking forward like that, Vlad. You might be in for a better deal in the future. Your check will be waiting for you outside," Vlad's grin just grew wider.

"Well, I must be heading back home now. Ta," he gracefully stepped back, opened the door, and whirled out of the room. Luchesi picked up the Electro-Staff and began to examine it. Six of his advisors remained where they were; Tony eyed where Vlad had been standing suspiciously.

"_Pensate che dovremmo lasciarli rendere a programmi quel grande sui suoi propri_?" he pondered out loud.

"_Amperora, vi preoccupate troppo_," Luchesi brushed the comment off, "_Pensate che ottenga abbastanza alimentazione fuori là proteggersi da me? Non accadrà mai_," Tony just kept eyeing where Vlad had stood, suspicious and afraid.

* * *

Italian translation:

"You think we should let him make plans that big on his own?" he pondered out loud.

"Ah, you worry too much," Luchesi brushed the comment off, "You think he'll get enough power out there to protect himself from me? It'll never happen," Tony just kept eyeing where Vlad had stood, suspicious and afraid.


	11. Vlad's Dark Deed

The months went by, and Vlad's dealings with the Family and his own pioneering continued to yield great profits. From the Electro-Staff, he kept uncovering the secret devices and inventions of Yensid and their ally corporations. Rocket propulsion systems, alternate fuel sources, special generators – the list kept on growing. All the investigations that could be paid for never picked up on anything that could even remotely lead back to Vlad, and both he and the Family had been making a lot of money. By the third anniversary of the accident, Vlad was a mid-scale millionaire.

Things at Yensid just kept going in Vlad's favour. For all his technical know-how and far-reaching aspirations, Technus was a complete and utter idiot when it came to people. He manipulated his employees and his allies to further his ambitions, but when it came to close allies or people who would let him talk about himself, he was as gullible as a new-born baby. Vlad just sat back, smiled, and let him talk. Often Technus would blab out private information that only he was supposed to know, and Vlad always acted on it. He had begun making private deals with allied companies without Technus's consent. He had also been going down to the lower levels of Yensid, winning over small but important employees and divisions to Dalv's side of the partnership. All this helped to build up Dalv's size and power, and slowly but surely, they began to move in on exclusive territory for Yensid. Eventually, Yensid had to be re-named Yensid/Dalv Corp.

Vlad had bought a well-sized house just outside Milwaukee with his cut of the Family's profits and his own fortune. He had also changed his appearance again. His first suit had been a loan from Tony, but he had bought several identical suits for himself. He still didn't keep himself completely clean-shaven, but he didn't have the same thick five o' clock shadow he had before. He had also begun to grow out a goatee and he had started to wear his hair a tad bit longer.

With a partnership with a major corporation and greater wealth behind him, Vlad was able to hire more employees. Beyond the scientists that worked in his public divisions, he had managed to expand the secret paranormal section of the company. He had hired some of the best-known ghost hunters and paranormalists to work for him. Like Scar at the hospital, they were used to only the tools that were available in their field, and they hadn't ever worked with anything as complex as the designs Vlad wanted them to fulfil. And he kept adding to their workload. He could still remember several of Jack's blueprints well enough to draw them out, and he remembered all of Maddie's corrections to them. Among these were a design for a thermos that would serve as a ghost-trap and a full-sized Ghost Portal.

Thanks to Vlad's Proto-Portal, his scavenging, and his connections to the Family and its scientists, ectoplasm and spectral fuel was always in good supply at Dalv. But he never told his scientists how he managed to gather up so much ectoplasm when it was once unfathomable, and he always kept it quiet so no one else could learn about it. Whenever he came by this department he would find that his scientists were actually behind him, as they weren't used to the blueprints or the technology. He had to spend a great deal of his time going over blueprints and mechanics with them, something that aggrivated him to no end. He had more imporant things to do with his time than helping along all of his little employees. Still, the extra hands had managed to make some progress in basic design and spectral analysis.

The new employees, the greater wealth, and the partnership with a major corporation had freed up Vlad's schedule, and he was now able to have his nightly training sessions with Katou again. The raw ectoplasm that the Family used in their drink and food had been helping to cement Vlad's new persona, but it had also helped expand his powers. He could now duplicate the spectral ball that Katou had used the night before Vlad met the Family. He had learned how to fire green beams from his eyes. If he grabbed an opponent he could send a shock throughout their bodies. And he was getting better and better at handling his sword and the spectral abilities it could perform. The strength of his defences and the power behind all of his attacks had also increased. Katou was still lowering himself down to Vlad's level for a fair fight, but there was something different now. Katou was holding back less. He had begun to put more power into his attacks and had started using more complicated manoeuvres. Mere months ago, Vlad would have been eternally grateful for something like this from the samurai, as proof that he actually meant it when he said that Vlad was improving. Now, all it did was make Vlad wear a nasty smirk behind his stoic expressions when around the old warrior. He was finally throwing a bit of Katou's medicine back at him.

Katou made no obvious indication that he was suspicious about how Vlad had gained such power in so little time, but there was some change in his attitude that kept Vlad alert. Much of Katou's paternal, warm-hearted demeanour had faded away. He was still respectful and polite, but he just didn't seem as inviting or trusting as before. Vlad never pressed the matter, and it could have just been that Vlad was getting more skilled, so Katou didn't feel the need to act so paternally. But the samurai's previous insights into what had been going on in Vlad's life kept him on his toes.

There was one recent change in Vlad's life that could have added to any suspicions Katou may have had. A suspicion that his old self had held before he committed to the Family had recently obtained some validation. Luchesi had called upon him to serve the Family in more ways than just his business through Dalv. During a conversation with the Mafia don, Vlad, who was boasting about his recent progress in Katou's training, accidentally mentioned Scar's old prediction on how powerful he would become compared to a full ghost. Soon after, Luchesi, apparently delighted at this revelation, had started inviting Vlad to come along to evening events as a guest and as "some thinking muscle." Apparently, in the event that anything should happen at these events, someone with a bit more brain would be more useful to have at hand. Vlad was quite offended at being treated like some low-brown henchman with a bit more of a mind, but he knew the stakes. He knew that it was foolish to turn down Luchesi's request. He knew that there was no way to leave the mob alive, and that he still depended on them for some support. And he knew that Dalv didn't have the power and independence in the real world to serve as protection from the Family…yet. So for now, he agreed to serve as the old don's body guard.

These events were few and far-between, but as they were in the evening, they took away from Vlad's training. Whereas when he was held up with Dalv his excuse of a job was at least somewhat true, in these cases, he was flat-out lying. While Katou could never seem to tell the difference, Vlad had a feeling that, even if the old ghost didn't know what he was up to, he could sense when he wasn't telling the truth. Still, neither of them really pressed the matter.

Vlad's role of a bodyguard was limited to standing by Luchesi as he discussed business with his guests during the evenings outside the Family's home base for a long time, but a few weeks after the accident's third anniversary, that was changed.

"Sit down, Vlad," Luchesi told him when he invited him into his office, "And I congratulate you on Dalv's latest deal. There are some within the Family who object to you having certain control over your company, and I do not entirely turn from tradition, but it is a different time then when we started, and the real-world out there is your world. You should have some freedom."

"Thank you," Vlad smiled lightly. In truth, he considered Luchesi's words a sweeping sign of hypocrisy, as he shut up any new technologies for his own gain. True, Vlad kept it quiet that he had a good supply of ectoplasm, but he still let his inventions get built. But there was nothing he could do about that for now.

"I have called you here today because we need your services once again as intelligent protection. And this time it is not for me," Vlad raised an eyebrow at this.

"Yes?" he asked suspiciously.

"Tony is breaking down on me," Luchesi sighed and shook his head, "He is always nervous, but now he's going _pazzesco_ in the head. He's crazy now. His worry is starting to affect his business. He's even started to worry about…" he gave Vlad a funny look but quickly blinked it away, "…people in the Family. I'm sending him out on a fishing trip. But the spot I am sending him…we've had a bit of trouble there before, and the two boys who watch over him now are, how do you say, _stupido_. We don't have a lot of trouble there, but the man who I am worried about…if he is there and something comes up, I need someone with a head on their shoulders."

"When is this little trip?" Vlad asked. He had no choice but to agree, but the timing on this could be a problem for him.

"Tonight. Behind the door we're sending you, it's always a nice day," Vlad leaned back in his chair. Two nights ago, he had to serve as Luchesi's bodyguard for a dinner meeting with a smuggler. This would be the first time that two jobs for the Family would be so close together. He didn't want to press his luck with lying to Katou so soon.

"This comes at a very awkward time for me," Vlad decided to speak up this time, "I think the Order is growing suspicious."

"If any troubles arise, the Family will protect you. You want to try getting a deal the other way around?" his words held more than a faint trace of threat to them. There was no sense in carrying out an argument now.

"May I excuse myself from my earlier appointment before we leave?" Vlad asked as politely as he could manage.

"Very well," Luchesi nodded.

---

"Business again?" Katou asked simply. They sat across from each other at the long table that held all of Katou's lamps and bottles. Vlad had arrived ready to go, with his overcoat, gloves and hat covering his black Armani suit. He had just finished telling the samurai that he wouldn't be able to train for that night.

"We have a major project in the works," Vlad said, it requires my full attention," he eyed Katou very carefully. If the samurai had any suspicions about what Vlad said, he didn't show it at all. He just stared back at Vlad from across the table, never changing expression.

"Alright," Katou finally said. Vlad waited a moment longer, examining Katou's expression, trying to decide if the old samurai was going to say something more. When it seemed the ghost was not, Vlad turned to go.

"Nice suit," he heard Katou say.

"Yes," he said, not turning around but moving his eyes back, "It's Armani," he began walking towards the mouth of the cave.

"Vlad," the samurai called again, and Vlad stopped again, still not turning around, "Be careful," Vlad slightly turned his head back. Katou's tone was cautionary, but he still didn't like it. He didn't have time to worry about it now.

"Ta," he said simply, and with that, he stepped out of the cave and flew off into The Ghost-Zone.

---

"_Che cosa è la materia con voi_?" Tony yelled at one of his usual henchmen, "_Non potete mettere un gancio su una linea di pesca? Potreste colpire un occhio fuori!_" Vlad sighed. From the Family's home base he, Tony, and two henchmen drove through The Ghost-Zone in an old Rolls Royce to a wooden door like that of a cabin. Behind it was a beautiful summer morning by a small lake, with a few trees scattered about, a small road, and pier. The grass was soft and varied in length, the air was pleasant, and the water in the lake was pure and blue. The door was located in the northwest boarder of the Order, so Vlad could see why Luchesi would want an extra guard around. Perhaps that was the reason why Tony was still so nervous despite the idyllic settings. They had barely gotten out of the car when he began shouting Italian at his henchmen for anything that he thought warranted a panic attack. Vlad stayed back by the car, leaning against it and trying to fend off boredom as he watched Tony cautiously cast out his line. It was difficult to see as the road was so far back from the lake, but he didn't really care. He wasn't fond of fishing and he found Tony's voice slightly irritating.

"_Guardi quello_!" he heard Tony yell, "_Sguardo giusto a quello! Vigilanza dove state lanciando la vostra linea! Potreste interferire quello sul mio vestito e trascinarli nell'acqua_!" Vlad sighed again.

He didn't understand what Tony was yelling, but it was his understanding that this was going to be a long evening.

---

Brice Guyart yawned and stretched out in the long grass by the far side of the lake, looking up at the bright blue sky. His sword and scabbard lay by his side and his hands rested behind his head. The Order had sent him out here a few months ago to track down Eel and investigate the whereabouts of the Family. The hunt for Eel had been called off when Katou's apprentice had taken care of it, but the search for the mob was still on, and he had kept at it all these months. He remained focused on his work most of the time, but he did have to admit – when duty led him to a place like this, it was nice to forget about why he was there and just enjoy it.

Unfortunately, as was often the case, moments like that didn't last very long.

The sound of someone shouting in Italian brought him out of his trance. The grass was long enough so that he could stay fairly well hidden if he kept low to the ground. He rolled over and stayed crouched low to the ground, wisps of the long grass stopping just above his head. He parted the grass with an agile movement of his hand and peered out across the lake. He couldn't help but let his jaw drop and felt a trickle of sweat run down his face as he took in the sight before him. Tony, one of the old mob bosses before the Family and now among Luchesi's seven advisors, was right across from him, panicking over how his two henchmen were fishing. Having come from Europe and travelled around Italy while alive, Guyart could roughly make out what he was saying, but that wasn't his prime concern at the moment. His eyes caught a tree not far from where the three were fishing. He slowly slipped back, picked up his sword, and turned into ghost-vapour, silently shifting through the long grass as he made his way across the lake.

He wasn't able to see the car off in the background or the figure leaning against it.

---

"Whatsa matter with you?" Tony was getting hysterical. His two bodyguards may not have been very bright, but they did have a sense of when their boss was getting a bit ridiculous. Whenever he got into this mood, it was best to just sit there, do nothing, and wait for him to let it all out.

"Where did you learn how to fish?" Tony shouted, "Who taught you how to fish? You know how well you fish? You don't fish well! You fish terrible! You are the worst fisher I have ever seen! You know what you could have done with that last cast? I'll tell you what you could have done! You could have gotten your hook caught on this suit! Then you could have ruined this suit or you could have dragged me along and thrown be into the lake where I would have drowned! Like a rat, like a dog, like a bum! Do you know what kind of water this is? This is ghost water! It's not real water, it's ghost water! I can drown in ghost water! I'm a ghost! Do you realise that you could have done this?" before his henchmen could answer, Tony gave out a yelp and whirled around. There was a scorch mark on the back of his suit, a trail of green smoke drifting off from it.

"Who's there?" Tony whipped out his ghost-gun, his hand shaking violently. His henchmen, now alert, had also risen to their feet and had drawn their weapons. Frantically they looked about, trying to find the source of the shot. Tony's eyes caught on to a large tree nearby. The perfect place to hide during an attack. He blindly set off three shots in the direction of the tree. The spectral pellets sped outward. The force of the gun was enough that the bullets plowed right through the tree as they were fired, but there was no indication that they hit anything behind it. The three mob ghosts remained where they were, Tony shaking all over now and hissing his breaths in through clenched teeth.

"_Where are you_?" he screamed. No reply. Then, green spectral lightning flew out, seemingly from the trunk of the tree itself, and caught Tony and his henchmen in its current. The electricity ran around and through their bodies, penetrating every part of their beings. The shocks scorched and burned them, but they still felt so cold that chills ran throughout their forms. Soon smoke began to drift from their bodies as the lightning took its toll. And eventually, the pain and sheer voltage shook the ghost-guns out of their hands. As soon as they hit the ground, the lightning ended and a green line of energy like a rope shot out from behind the tree, lassoed the three mob ghosts, and pulled them together in its grip. And with that, Brice Guyart stepped out from behind the tree, the other end of the rope in his left hand and his rapier in the right.

"Gentlemen," he said firmly, "And I use that term lightly, I'm afraid you are all under arrest," he began to move towards his captives as they vainly tried to escape, Tony looking even more panicked. He had scarcely taken three steps, however, when a green spectral blast shot out from Guyart's right and broke the rope, leaving the three captives tied up but removed from their captor. Guyart whirled around to face the direction the blast had come from, slipping into an épée _en guarde_. His opponent stoof across from him. Green smoke still drifted from his outstretched left hand, and he used his right to pull his overcoat up to cover his face. He had a cold, emotionless, piercing glare on his face, and something about him seemed itching for a fight. He fired off a second blast, but this time Guyart was ready. He dropped his sword and caught the blast in his right hand. It ran up through his arm, over his shoulders, and up into his left hand, where he fired it back at the figure. It hit him at just the right angle to knock his right hand away, and his coat fell down away from his face. He tried to turn away, but Guyart managed to see his face, and he took a step back.

"Vlad?" Guyart stared at him unbelievingly, "What are you doing here?"

"Well, let's see…" Vlad finally turned to face him and adopted a sarcastic tone, "I'm dressed like a member of the mob…I just stopped you from taking out one of the most important members of the Mafia…what do you think I'm doing here?" and, without warning, his sword became engulfed in spectral flame and he leapt forward, swinging his blade out in front of him and raising it up to strike. Guyart barely managed to kick his own sword up into his hands and parry the blow. They both stepped back, lashed out in unison, and the duel began.

Vlad and Guyart did not have identical fighting styles, and this was actually providing Vlad with an advantage. Katou had trained him in his own unique style of swordplay. It may have been predominantly samurai, but influences from other styles were incorporated into the moves. Adding in ghost powers and martial arts into the style helped as well. As they were both on the Order's founding council, Katou had taught Guyart the basics of how to defend against his form of swordplay, but Guyart hadn't changed much since becoming a resident of The Ghost-Zone. He had stuck to the same method of sword fighting he had used in life – classical fencing. He was a master at it, and his speed and skill managed to create an adequate defence, but it was clear which style was more effective here in The Ghost-Zone.

Vlad was also helped by the fact that Guyart still seemed in shock and was foolishly trying to hold back. Vlad, on the other hand, was giving the fight his all. Though he resented being treated like a bodyguard, he didn't have any choice but to save Tony and his guards. If he didn't, the Family would place the responsibility on him. But there was a part of him that _enjoyed_ fighting. This side of him fed off the adrenaline created by the battle and propelled him to press the attack. It wanted to fight. It wanted to attack. It didn't care who the opponent was – it just wanted to be in battle. Since the opponent happened to be Guyart, though, another part of him was driving him forward as a way to lash back at the Order and show them what he _really_ thought of all their self-righteous, chivalrous nonsense. Beyond all else, though, all of him was in agreement on one thing – now that the hat was out of the bag, Guyart had to go. If he was allowed to escape back to the Order, with out without his captives, everything would fall apart. For his own sake and his sake alone, Vlad needed to win this fight.

Thrusts, cuts, parries, and lunges continued to be exchanged. As the initial shock of finding who his opponent was began to wear away, Guyart's swordplay became more efficient and more threatening. He began using fencing manoeuvres that were not part of how Vlad fought. And the Renaissance man had hundreds of years' experience over Vlad. Vlad still had the drive and the need to win, but Guyart had a motive as well – his duties. Tears began to show in the two combatants' clothing as the fight became more deadly and more close calls began to appear. Vlad soon became desperate. He hadn't followed Katou's code of honour for battle to begin with, but now, he completely threw all morals and ethics to the wind – his own personal ones included. The more the fight went on, the more savage he became. And all the while, neither of them had broken off from swordplay to use their ghost-powers.

Unfortunately for Vlad, Guyart was the first of them to think to do so.

He caught Vlad's sword in a tight parry and charged up a blast in his hand. He thrust it forward into Vlad's chest. The younger man went flying back, his hat falling off his head. He rolled back up to his feet, only to find Guyart already two steps ahead of him. Three more blasts were fired off, one from his hand and two from his eyes. Vlad dodged the first blast, but the eye beams hit him dead centre in the shoulders. He felt a yelp escape from his throat and his sword slip from his hands as he was pushed back further. He barely got his wind back in time to see Guyart flying towards him with a _flèche_, sword ablaze with green and his body looking like an arrow shot from the bow. There was nowhere to hide and no time to raise up a shield. Vlad deployed the only defence he could summon forth in time – he went human, and Guyart flew right through him. As soon as his opponent passed by he rolled off to the side and swept up his sword, darting around to meet his foe again. Charging his blade up again, he slashed out in the middle of the air, and a sharp wave of green sped towards Guyart. The duellist flipped over it and lunged, Vlad barely managing a parry. He then used his eye blasts yet again, this time catching Vlad right in the face and knocking him to the ground. He raised his rapier up high and prepared to thrust it down towards Vlad's right shoulder.

Vlad watched as the blade came down towards him. It moved like a falcon diving for a hare, but it seemed to take seconds to move even the slightest inch. One thing was crystal clear, though – there was no time to raise a shield, and no time to become human with this attack, and any attempt to parry would result in his losing an arm – and either way, he wouldn't be able to fight. Nothing short of a miracle could save him now. He kept following the blade as it darted downward.

'_It ends like this,'_ he thought, too shocked to allow any stronger thoughts or emotions to form. Damnit! If he could only split up for a moment or two…

And suddenly, as if a huge current of air opened up inside him, he was pushed off to the side…and another Vlad came out from his right side and was pushed in the other direction as Guyart's sword landed between them, where the one Vlad had been.

The two Vlads stared at one another in awe as they stood up. The three captives let their jaws slip as they stared at the double Vlads. And Guyart backed up several steps himself. This wasn't a ghost-power…at least not a full ghost's power. Never in all his years had he seen _anything_ like this…

"What the…?" he allowed himself to say. Vlad began to literally look himself over. Both Vlads had blades in their hands, both were in the same condition, and both seemed to have the same mind-set. They grinned at one another and let flames roll over their swords. They turned in unison to face Guyart, their grins slipping into menacing sneers. And they shot forward to attack.

Guyart was more than skilled enough to fight off two opponents at the same time, even if they adopted a fighting style that wasn't well known to him. But shock had returned to him, and he was again at a disadvantage because of it. The Vlads pressed their upper hand and drove the fight back, showing no mercy and never moving in sync with one another. Guyart held his defence up as best he could and tried using his ghost-powers to strike back, but the Vlads did likewise. Soon it became very clear who was dominating the battle. Guyart knew that this was the time for a drastic measure. He jumped back and vanished in a whirl of green. Seconds later he re-materialised behind one Vlad and knocked his foot against his, knocking that Vlad off his feet. He vanished again, and re-appeared behind the second Vlad. This Vlad became aware of the unwelcome presence, but Guyart had already shot his blade out in a thrust.

But this Vlad, as he saw the thrust coming, suddenly split in two himself. The third Vlad looked around for a second, noticed he had a sword, and smiled, drifting into a samurai stance. The first Vlad, who had picked himself off the ground, eyed his two counterparts and wondered. They had split up on impulse to avoid an attack – could he do that on his own, without the instinct to survive. He closed his eyes and focused, trying to find what it was that allowed him to do that ability. It was something in his spectral power – that much he was aware of – but what part of that power was it? He began to shake as he searched and focused, trying to find it. And suddenly, like the crack of a rifle, it went off. He became a glowing white silhouette for a moment, and from that silhouette shot out two Vlads. There were now four of him, all armed and all set on the same goal. They all turned to Guyart and moved in.

Four against one…all on the founding council had trained themselves and their students to defend against this situation. They had performed drills with four combatants targeting one person. But it had been at least forty-some years since the last time Guyart himself had practised that drill – and Katou and Shao-lin were the only ones who had been in this situation in real combat. The Vlads had him surrounded on all sides, and none of them did exactly the same thing as the others. Guyart rotated around and blocked as many attacks as best he could, but they had moved in so close that it was impossible not to get struck by one of them. If one was attacking with his sword, the other would use his eye beams. If one was firing a spectral blast, the other would grab Guyart's shoulder and give him a shock. Scorch marks, slashes, and burns began to appear all over him as the Vlads became more aggressive and as they began to wear the duellist down. He needed a quick relief if he had any hope to make it out of this battle alive. He quickly curled up in mid-air as green lightning began to move around him and piece together a spectral ball. He shot the energy outward, and all four Vlads were pushed back with it. Remaining in the air, Guyart uncurled himself, put his sword into his left hand, and stretched his right hand out. A huge green paddle suddenly materialised just in front of it. He raised his hand up, and the paddle followed. Then he swung it down towards the Vlads. Perhaps knocking them together would get them to reassemble. But they seemed to be aware of his strategy, and all four rolled out of its path. The Vlad that was behind Guyart and to his right flew up high in the air, out of reach from the paddle. He materialised his sword's scabbard, put it away, and raised both his hands over his head. Then he brought them down and shot out green spectral lightning from his fingertips, and Guyart became engulfed in the surge. The paddle soon vanished as the bolts took their toll, bringing the duellist down to the ground. A second Vlad, in front of Guyart and to his left, shot eye beams out at him, striking Guyart right in the face. The third Vlad fired a spectral blast, sending Guyart falling to his knees, and the fourth Vlad charged up his sword and shot out a sharp wave of power, slashing the Renaissance man right across the back. Then, all four Vlads suddenly relented in their attacks and flew off to Guyart's right. In perfect unison they charged up pure-white spectral blasts and threw them forward, the blasts all conjuring together just as they hit their target. Guyart went flying, the blasts propelling him backwards. Within seconds he had rammed into the same tree he had been hiding behind, his sword rolling off by his side. His head hit the tree hardest of all, and the wind was knocked out of him. The Vlads all smiled triumphantly as they joined together as one once again.

It would have been quite simple for Vlad to leave Guyart as he was. They could take him back to Luchesi and leave him in the don's hands. It would have saved Vlad anymore involvement or exhaustion over the matter. But, as he turned to walk towards Tony and his henchmen to cut them free, a single thought flashed through his mind.

If he didn't finish Guyart, there was always the chance he could escape.

And, as that one thought flowed through his mind, something snapped, like a railroad bridge crashing down into a canyon. He stopped just as he was about to cut the ropes around Tony and his men as the thought flowed through his mind like a dark fog. He looked down at his sword. Spectral flames consumed the blade. And, raising the blade over his head, he whirled around, flew forward, and struck. The second the blade entered Guyart's torso, the duellist vanished in a puff of green smoke.

Vlad saw him disappear, but he didn't stop with his strike. He pressed onward. He kept his lunge going until almost the entire blade had gone into the tree. It was then and only then that realisation struck him.

He had done that.

With his own two hands and his self-centred motives, he had taken out a Renaissance man and a member of the Order with a sword that had come from that man's friend.

And it was all him. There was no temporary insanity, no second voice, no overshadowing. It had been entirely him.

A glassy-eyed look came over Vlad as he looked up away from his sword, seeming to stare into nothing. He was barely aware of his hands as they let go of the sword's handle. He had just killed a man in cold blood. He knew he should have felt something. Yet, despite his shock, there was neither remorse nor regret inside of him. This little event guaranteed that Guyart could never reveal what Vlad was up to. It had to be done. And no one would ever know how it happened. There was no need for remorse or regret. If anything, it called for complete joy and celebration at putting himself in the clear. His plans were safe. His alliances remained secret. And he had just taken out one of the Order's best warriors – his skills had to have been something to achieve that. He had every right to feel pleased with himself. But he felt nothing. No relief, no happiness, no joy…nothing. Just hollow shock and emptiness. It was as if he didn't even care.

And he didn't know what to make of that.

A blank stare still plastered on his face, Vlad reached down without looking and pulled his sword out of the tree. He bent down and picked up Guyart's sword. He slowly walked over to Tony and his henchmen and cut them three. They rose up, staring at Vlad like he was both a guardian angel and a demon from Hell. The four of them turned towards the car and moved towards it slowly.

Shock, exhaustion, and a desire to get as far away from that place as possible prevented any of them from thinking to pick up the fishing poles, bait, ghost-guns, and Vlad's hat before they left.

---

Vlad, Tony, and their two companions quietly entered Luchesi's office. The Mafia don was dressed differently. He was in a black suit with a rose pinned on the left side, and he had his hat and overcoat on. He had been reaching for his cape when they had entered, as though he was just about to leave. Tony stepped forward and took him over into a corner of the room, and the two whispered between one another. Vlad could tell they were speaking in Italian, but they were speaking so quietly he couldn't make out any distinct words. Not that he would understand them anyway. And he still felt too empty to care.

The quiet conversation continued. Soon, Luchesi came over to Vlad, a wide-eyed look on his face. He seemed ready to faint and leap for joy at the same time.

"Is this true what Tony tells me?" he said, still in a whisper, "Brice Guyart was there, and you saved Tony and his boys and finished him off forever? Is this true?" without saying a word, Vlad lifted up Guyart's sword and handed it to Luchesi. His hand trembling, he took it, and looked it over as though he had been given Excalibur. He handed the blade to Tony, who set it leaning against the right bookshelf. Luchesi lay both his hands on Vlad's shoulders and gave him a fatherly smile.

"Well done," he quickly embraced him, "Very well done. You are owed a debt of gratitude for this. I don't mean a small little favour, either. One day, if there is something that you must have to better your life, you ask it of me, and you will have it," he clapped his hands on Vlad's shoulders again and finally let go. Vlad gave him a polite nod. Luchesi seemed to sense what was going on in his mind.

"Of course, you must be tired and drained after all this mess," he said, and he turned to Tony's two boys, "You two. Show Vlad to a room," he turned back to Vlad, "I want you to get some sleep and clean yourself up. There is an event this weekend that we are to attend, and you will be coming with us not as a guard, but as a guest," Vlad nodded again, and he followed Tony's henchmen out of the room. He paid no mind to Luchesi's invitation, his warmth, or his offer of a debt. For now, all he wanted to do was sleep.

Back in the office, Tony was again eyeing where Vlad had been with a suspicious eye. He had never been comfortable with Vlad's going ahead with his own plans instead of those of the Family, but after the events of today, he was genuinely terrified of him.

"You sure you want to give him a promise like that?" he asked, though not turning to face Luchesi.

"You should be offering him a promise," the don snorted, "Besides, what's he gonna ask for? An army?" he chuckled at that, but Tony just kept staring.

He didn't like this. He didn't like this at all.


	12. Conflict of Interests

Chapter 12. You may want to re-read Chapter 11, as I've updated it since when I first put it up.

* * *

"I don't like it," Wizikute mumbled. He, Shao-lin, and Katou stood on the pier, but they were looking at the tree and the ground around them. Guyart had been gone for three days. He hadn't called back to the Order's sanctuary, he hadn't been seen by any of the locals in the surrounding doors, and the last person who had been in here hadn't seen him. But he had discovered three fishing poles, some bait, three ghost-guns and signs of a battle, and he had contacted the Order over those last two issues. They had already gathered up the poles, the guns, and the bait, and now they were surveying the battle scene.

"Lots of footprints on the ground," Wizikute bent down and felt one of them that looked like a boot had left it, "Whoever Brice was fighting, they didn't fly around much."

"They used swords," Shao-lin pointed out several spots of torn-up grass and Earth. The shape of the tears and the look of several of them could only have been made by a blade.

"Someone apparently took offence to this tree," Katou observed dryly. He had wandered up to the tree and had spotted a deep carving in it, as though someone had stabbed the trunk.

"I don't like it," Wizikute said again, "Whoever was here left the fishing poles and the bait. Why didn't they leave anything else behind?"

"'Anything else' was probably something they didn't want found," Shao-lin sighed.

"But that wouldn't explain the guns," Katou said. He had walked off on his own, following some of the tracks that were on higher ground. There was definitely something missing to all of this. The attacker – or attackers – obviously weren't careful over what they had left behind and what they had taken. If someone like Guyart went missing like this without a trace, it was safe to assume that he lost the fight. But that was another thing that made little sense. Guyart wasn't the most skilled member of the founding council, but he was one of the best warriors in the Order. They had all trained themselves to fight against ghost-guns and other weapons that the Family employed. He knew better than to walk right into a fight, like what appeared to have happened. And the Family had no idea on the way in which the Order thought and worked. For them to have as much success against Guyart as they appeared to have had, they'd need someone from the Order on their side…

He felt his foot come down on something that wasn't ground, and he bent down to see what it was. A tattered grey fedora with a black band and a torn-up red flower lay on the ground before him. It was pushed in on itself from Katou's stepping on it and it was covered in dust. Katou reached down and picked it up. He felt the material the hat was made out of. He looked inside it. He tried it on. And, as he examined this seemingly trivial piece of evidence, he began to become more concerned. He tried not to get ahead of himself – after all, it could be a mere coincidence. But the size of the hat, how it looked, where the flower was positioned on the hat…it looked like Vlad's hat. And, now that he thought about it, the footprints left by one of those pairs of boots resembled the ones Vlad wore. The shape of the cut in the tree was curved like a samurai blade – the kind he had given to Vlad. He hated where this trail of thought was leading him, and he could have been getting ahead of himself, but given the circumstances…

"Katou?"

The old samurai snapped out of his trance and looked up at Wizikute's call.

"Is anything wrong?" Katou looked back down at the hat, his fingers unconsciously tightening along the felt brim.

"Maybe," he muttered, his eyes narrowing. He stood back up, the hat still in his hand, and headed back to his two companions.

---

Vlad stood in the middle of the marble floor in a fighting stance. Seven ghostly targets drifted around him, and he followed them with his eyes. They weren't real ghosts – just figments that Katou had conjured up for the night. For some reason, Katou wasn't going to spar with Vlad or teach him anything new tonight. He was going to have Vlad go through a new kind of drill. He had to take down all of these ghostly figments in less than fifteen minutes. Katou was off to the right, standing on the ships' masts and surveying the scene.

"And…go!" he gave the signal, and the drill began. Vlad got off to a very good start – with one wave of energy sent out from his sword, he took out the first figment within seconds. The other six charged in towards him, but he just jumped up and flipped over them as they crashed into one another. As he landed he whirled around, taking out a second figment with his sword. One of them recognised the sword as a significant threat and rushed Vlad, knocking it from his hands and pushing him to the floor. Undaunted, Vlad just smiled up at that figment. He flipped onto his feet and fired off a spectral blast, reducing the figment to smoke.

The battle went on, and within two minutes it was very clear who was going to emerge the victor. At the speeds he was moving, Vlad was often an indistinguishable blur, difficult to see and nearly impossible to follow. He was certainly more than a match for a handful of imagined figments. They had been created as fast, able warriors on Vlad's skill level and with a chivalrous mindset, but Vlad had many advantages over them. One; he had a greater variety of ghost-powers for attack and defence. Two; Vlad was not following their idiotic, foolish code of chivalry. Three; while these figments were meant to regard this little exchange as what it was – a drill, Vlad was treating it like a full-on battle. And he was enjoying it.

Vlad had pulled himself together since performing his little deed. He had thought about it over the last few days, especially after he had gotten some sleep the night afterwards. As soon as the initial shock of the deed passed on by, it was very easy for Vlad to grasp his feelings over the matter – he didn't care. There was no longer any question about that. He was completely indifferent to the entire thing. And he now felt that it was best that way. Killing Guyart was something he had to do. If he hadn't, his alliance with the Family and all that he had gained by it would be ruined. He had no need to regret the decision, and as it was something that had to be done, not a choice, there was no sense in getting joyous about it. It was almost like a business transaction. He was perfectly at right to feel this way about it.

There was another thing he realised. Being caught up in the fight at the time, battling Guyart was dangerous. It was threatening. He had plenty of close calls. But he had recalled the adrenaline. He remembered the voice that urged him on as he relished the fight. He remembered how it felt to strike out and hit his opponent, to make him suffer. On some level, in some corner of his mind, the idea of fighting and hurting a foe, no matter how they were hurt, was an enjoyment to him. It was a _thrill_. And all of this came forward as he duelled with Katou's figments in this drill that night. He took out a fourth figment with ease, perfectly relaxed and at ease. He had nothing to fear from this little exercise.

What he was worried about was Katou. There was something about the way the samurai was watching the fight that put Vlad at unease. He had the same calm expression as always and seemed to take everything in as usual, but there was something in the old man's eyes as he followed the drill around the marble floor. He seemed to be taking more note on how Vlad was reacting and what his feelings were rather than the fight itself. It was almost as if he were suspicious of something. More so than ever before, there was something unfamiliar and uncomfortable about the samurai that night, and Vlad found himself anxious to get away. He curled up, formed a spectral ball around him, and shot it out, finishing off the last three figments in a flash.

"Excellent," Katou applauded as Vlad went to retrieve his sword and caught his breath, "Just over five minutes. Very impressive," Vlad analysed those words very carefully inside his head. There was no hidden message or sign of suspicion that he could detect. But there was still that look in the samurai's eyes.

"Is that all for this evening?" he asked, annoyance all over his voice. He really wanted to get back home.

"No, not yet," Katou said simply, jumping off the ships' masts and walking towards Vlad, "I wanted to ask you about that hat you were wearing a few days ago," a freight train seemed to plow through Vlad's mind as he was led back to that fateful night – _his hat_. His hat, the guns Tony and his boys had dropped, the fishing poles, the bait…they had all left them behind. And there were plenty of tracks and signs of a battle left on the scene. If it didn't incriminate Vlad personally, it would at least prove the Family's involvement and the use of a sword. Blast it, he should have known this would happen! Guyart was on the founding council of the Order and one of their best warriors – if he went missing, it should have been obvious that a search party would go out after him! How could he have been such an idiot?

'_Steady, Vlad,'_ he thought, _'Let's just see what he wants. You may be in the clear after all,'_ still, he couldn't stop a flicker of fear from moving up behind his eyes.

"Yes?" he said as calmly as he could, raising one eyebrow.

"Have you lost it?" Katou asked.

"No," Vlad managed to get the word out fine, but he felt that he waited a bit too long before he said it, "Whatever would make you think that?"

"I found this lying around," from his robe, Katou drew out Vlad's tattered, dirty, trampled grey hat. The flower was pretty much gone and it was more than a bit worn out, but it was definitely Vlad's hat. And Vlad couldn't stop a gulp from making it down his throat.

"I'm sure many ghosts around this realm have hats such as these," he said simply, making a light gesture towards the fedora, "What makes you say that this one is mine?"

"I found it behind a door in the north-west corner of the Order," Katou's voice suddenly took on a serious and slightly dark tone, and Vlad felt a trickle of sweat slip down his neck.

"Brice Guyart has been missing for four days," the samurai went on, "And we know that the door I mentioned was the last place he had been. Save for tracks, we found neither him nor any trace of him. But we could tell a lot by those tracks."

"Is that so?" Vlad felt himself getting very tense. This wasn't good. This wasn't good at all.

"Yes. He was fighting someone. They were engaged in swordplay, in fact. There were tear marks all around the area from the blades, and one tree looked as though it had been stabbed by a samurai sword," for a brief moment, Vlad could have sworn that the samurai's eyes flickered over to eye Vlad's blade.

"And we found several fishing poles, some bait, three guns belonging to members of The Ghost-Zone Family, and this hat," Katou held the hat up higher. Vlad couldn't suppress a snarl as his face twisted into a hateful grimace. No one talked to him like that. Regardless of the fact that he was guilty of whatever charge Katou seemed to be implying, he wouldn't stand for this kind of disrespect. Who did this pompous, overblown, self-righteous old fool think he was dealing with?

"You wouldn't be accusing me of being involved with old Guyart's disappearance, now would you?" he said, threat and challenge lining his every word.

"If I was going to make an accusation, I would have said as much," Katou replied simply, "I merely state the facts. Guyart is gone, evidence was left behind, and among it was this hat. It reminded me of yours, and I want to know if it is,"

"No," Vlad shot back at him, though a bit too quickly, "And I know nothing of this little skirmish. I will say that it seems that Guyart had to have been weak for this to have happened to him!" venom seemed to spew from his mouth as he shot those words out. Other than a slight scowl, Katou gave no sign that he had been affected by his words. Their eye lines locked together, and a surge of lightning seemed to run between them. Vlad felt himself fingering the handle of his sword, and he could hear a voice in his head urging him to draw it out and settle this now. It took more than a bit of will to suppress this impulse.

They remained like this for what seemed like a small eternity. All the while Vlad kept tense and on edge, while Katou seemed as serene as ever. Eventually, his scowl faded back into his typical tired face.

"You still haven't gotten over Jack and Maddie, have you?" he said out of the blue. Vlad again raised an eyebrow. He had to admit – he had lost his plans for tracking down Jack and Maddie amidst all that he had been doing for his own life since striking his deal with the Family. Nevertheless, Katou's words were true, and at the root of his deal. Ye he found himself so confounded by the samurai's brining up something they had discussed together only once that he couldn't bring himself to answer. Katou paid this no mind.

"I don't know what you'll do to find them, and I'm not entirely sure of what you've been up to lately," he said simply, "I do know that you have other alliances – ones that you are slightly more pleased with," Vlad felt himself take a step back at this. How much did Katou know?

"Vlad – be careful," the samurai almost seemed mournful now. He tossed the hat to Vlad and floated down towards his living chambers. Vlad followed him as he went, hissing in his breaths through clenched teeth.

"We'll see who'll need to 'be careful' once I'm done with you," he muttered under his breath. He let his fist close in tight around his hat, scrunching it up almost into a ball. He tossed it onto the marble floor and flew out of the cave as quickly as he could.


	13. Securing the Rook

A status quo began to settle in for Vlad's life. There was an odd conflict in business here, a banquet with the Family there, and a visit to the Order's sanctuary now and again, but for the longest time, a daily routine and luxurious ease went over his existence. It started with just a few days, and soon this status quo stretched into weeks. Those weeks turned into months, and those months turned into years. Fourth, fifth, sixth, and seventh anniversaries of the accident all passed on by in this long-lasting routine. But those casual years were far from being unproductive.

Katou and Vlad were now very much at odds with each other. Tensions between them were so thick that it was almost possible to see and feel it. Their daily sessions now became weekly. With all that Vlad had to do in the real-world these days that was a practical decision, but beyond all that, Vlad just couldn't stand to be in the presence of that self-righteous, foolish, idiotic, suspicious old fool every night of his life anymore. It was sickening and dangerous all at once. And, while he would never openly show nor admit to it, Katou seemed a bit relieved at the cutback himself. Whether the samurai would openly say it or not, Vlad knew what he thought about Guyart's death. He could tell. Katou now rarely spoke to him at all. He was never rude or disrespectful, but he seemed to go out of his way to avoid conversation. Not that Vlad had any complaints about that. It saved him all the _bushido_ sermons and chivalrous nonsense. In any event, he didn't expect this to last forever. With all that was going on between them, he was now convinced that the samurai had to go. He wasn't safe anymore. He knew too much and his suspicions were far too close to what he didn't know. But that would have to wait for another day – he still couldn't defeat the samurai. His skills were improving, most certainly. He had learned how to create things such as paddles, swords, and solid walls out of spectral energy. He had learned how to fire attacks varying in power, so that they were never purely blue or green, but closer to an aqua colour and perfect for quick attacks when low on energy. He had learned how to catch an opponent's energy blast and fire it back at them. And his basic power and control was ever on the expanse. But Katou was still holding back for a fair fight, and he always emerged the victor. So for the moment, Vlad had no choice but to keep their awkward, apprehensive relationship alive. He wasn't going to learn how to defeat the samurai from anyone else. And besides, he still needed the Order.

Despite all that he had to do with the Family, his business with Yensid/Dalv Corp, and his relationship with Katou on the edge, Vlad had kept up his research on the legend of the Skeleton Key. The Order's records and their maps of The Ghost Zone proved invaluable in that quest. He still had not found the key's exact location, nor did he have the time to go look for it. But he had deduced much. He now knew that the key was sealed in a glass case and guarded by a behemoth. But the Order's records led him to stumble upon two more legends tied in with the lost key, and these proved all the more inciting. First, there was the legend of the Fright Knight, which he knew about from his mythology research in college. The spirit of Halloween, his dreaded sword the Soul Shredder would send anyone to a dimension of their worst nightmare. The only way to defeat him was to sheath his sword within a nearby pumpkin and recite an incantation. Vlad had begun to track down his lair thanks to the Order's map, though he hadn't pinpointed the location. He was intrigued with this legend. A ghost such as this would be easy to control with such a simple weakness and could prove an invaluable ally. But there was a third legend, albeit one that involved both the Skeleton Key and the Fright Knight. Before being sealed within his castle, the Knight had served as the loyal servant of Lord Pariah Dark, the King of all Ghosts.

The Ghost King's legend stretched back before the time of the Order. An all-powerful warrior sage, Pariah had mastered the powers of the Ring of Rage and the Crown of Fire. Two uncontrollable sources of spectral energy, when combined, they granted the wearer power unimaginable. And Pariah used that power to rule over The Ghost Zone with an iron fist. In a final effort to defeat him, six ancient ghosts who would later pass the legend on to the Order banded together and confronted the sovereign in a last assault. They eventually managed to stop both Pariah and his minions. They sealed the Fright Knight on his throne, and they revealed Pariah of his ring, so that if he were ever awakened, he could not work the crown without it. The Ghost King was placed inside the Sarcophagus of Forever Sleep and sealed with the Skeleton Key. To prevent Pariah from ever awakening, the ancients hid the key, destroyed any maps that lead to its precise location, and placed the behemoth there to guard it.

The lair that Pariah and his knight were concealed in was known as Pariah's Keep. It was on the outer rim of the Order's territory, an area so barren and ruined that hardly any subjects lived there and that the Family did not do business there. As it fell under the Order's jurisdiction, it was decreed that the castle should never be disturbed. It was the one thing that the Order, the Family, and Walker all agreed on. The very mention of Pariah's name seemed to bring fear to all within The Ghost Zone. Even Vlad felt himself humbled by the power of this legendary figure. He had no interests in trying to awake The Ghost King. But the Ring of Rage and the Crown of Fire proved irresistibly inciting. Power unimaginable bestowed upon the wearer of both…it didn't seem real. Once he hit upon the legend, it became a high priority of his to learn as much as he could about it. He read about it. He listened to stories about it. He dreamt about it. He could see himself wearing the crown and ring, a vast army at his disposal. The Order and the Family were out of the way. Dalv Corp was reigning supreme on the business front. He was owner of the Green Bay Packers. He had no desire to rule the world or The Ghost Zone – especially when he could buy anyone that he needed – but he had all that he wanted. And Maddie was always by his side in these dreams, and there was a tombstone that read "Here lies Jack Fenton."

As he poured over the Order's legends and maps to find the key, crown, and ring, Vlad also was kept busy with the Family. He was beginning to sense that he was losing trust in certain circles of the mob. Tony especially seemed not to trust him. Ever since the Guyart incident, Tony always seemed twice as jittery as was typical of him every time Vlad was around. Anytime Vlad needed something from the Family that fell under Tony's jurisdiction, his requests were always denied. Whenever Vlad was invited along to one of the Family's banquets or business dealings, Tony sat as far away from Vlad as the table and seating would permit. And he always seemed to keep one eye on Vlad at all times. But Vlad did not mind in the slightest. He actually enjoyed Tony's fear. It was something he had begun to pride himself on. He actually had a high member of the biggest organised crime syndicate in existence _worried_. And the best part of it was, Tony's worry wasn't costing him anything. Luchesi didn't share Tony's opinion. In fact, ever since the Guyart incident, Luchesi almost seemed to adopt Vlad as a son. He had begun inviting Vlad to every event, party, banquet, and celebration held by the Family – and Vlad was seated with Luchesi and his seven advisors at all of these. Not as a guard, not as protection, not as "thinking muscle," but as a valued member of the Family's inner circle. None of this swayed Vlad from his private want of independence, of course, but he had to admit there were benefits to all this. He had begun to be introduced to important figures outside those surrounding Luchesi, he had been let in on important dealings and plans, and he had gotten much more control than ever before. He had his own personal bodyguard now, an overweight ghost with a pet green wolf. He could decide on private deals and business transactions on his own, and for himself only. And he now had total control of what he did in Yensid/Dalv Corp, including getting a larger percentage from stolen machines – and keeping some for his own private sales.

Yensid/Dalv Corp kept working towards Vlad's benefit. He had begun to buy up shares in the company through various smaller businesses. With this influence, it became very easy to influence company decisions and create a board of directors that would agree to his plans. This control and power let him in on many secret plans by the corporation and his allies, and it let him spring whenever a promising new invention that might get the Family a hefty sum appeared. Dalv's division of the company kept turning out inventions of their own. Everything from remote controls to supercomputers was produced, and they were all hits. Not once was there a complaint about the efficiency or legality of anything that they made. A few of these inventions were the honest works of Yensid/Dalv employees, but Vlad often used ghostly influence to insure that nothing went wrong with these little toys. His newfound power in the Family got him access to their top scientists, so their tampering with the products worked out far better than his original microwave. And all the while, Yensid's side of the company – and everyone else – was in the dark. Technus kept blathering on all the time every time they met and in all the important meetings while Vlad went behind his back and did what he had to do. Outside the company, Vlad took great care to paint a pretty picture of himself for the world to see. He gave to charities, he made private investments in worthy causes, and he said all the right things to the press. And it all paid off. By the seventh anniversary of the accident, Vlad had gone from a mid-scale millionaire to a billionaire.

As soon as his fortunes began to build significantly, Vlad began to hunt for a new home. While he was determined to have a main house in Wisconsin, he left himself open to having a second retreat. There was a lovely cabin out in Colorado near the Rockies that met with his fancy, but for his main abode, he hit upon the perfect home. Off on the edge of a small town was an impressive castle. It was predominately medieval in styling, with many high, spired towers, long windows, impressive masonry, banners and flags waving in many parts of the castle, and high vaulted ceilings for the halls inside the building. And it had once been home to the legendary Wisconsin Dairy King. Vlad immediately went for the purchase, even going so far as to pay off any other interested parties. The house was soon his, and his first order of business was to have the main hall decorated in green and gold and have display cases made for all his Packers memorabilia, including an autographed football signed by Ray Nitschke.

Vlad had come by a lot of Packers merchandise recently. He had met a lot of players recently. His autographed football was a recent acquisition. Now that Vlad had money, he decided to pursue a dream he had long since mulled over – acquiring the Green Bay Packers. He had been donating considerable sums to the team. He started going to games. He began to meet with team members and coaches, past and present. And he made sure to get in on their good side. He hadn't made an official bid for the team yet, but he was courting the players for support and waiting for the opportune moment.

With his new homes and wealth, Vlad had again changed his appearance. He now wore his hair very long, down past his shoulders. He kept it all up in a neat ponytail. He had grown out his sideburns and his goatee as well. While he didn't cleanly shave the rest of his face still, he did keep it a bit neater than he had used to. And he had become fond of the habit of wearing his black overcoat and grey fedora over his suit during the winter months. He felt himself more distinguished this way, and he had let his voice adapt into a more cultured tone.

As the seventh anniversary passed on by and Yensid/Dalv just kept working in his favour, he received the ultimate trump card. It might not have been useful at the moment he received it, but eventually, this would let him have enough power and security in the real world to escape the Family and the Order when the time was right. This trump card was the untimely passing of Nicolai Technus.

It seems that Technus had secretly been working on constructing a battle suit out of household appliances. It was his own design, and he had built every part of it by hand in the late night and early morning when work had ended. On the morning when he had completed the construction, it was time to test it. He had entered the suit and fired it up. Unfortunately, he had forgotten one key component – a stabiliser to regulate the electricity. A power surge occurred, and by the time someone found him, he had begun to resemble a gigantic overcooked turkey. His will left all of Yensid's part of the company to his partner – Vlad. As the new CEO, Vlad was quick to get the transitional period over with. A few bribes to some uncooperative board members, the removal of those who wouldn't take the bribes, and a slight name change, and the newly christened Dalv Corp became fully his.

Throughout all his progress, all his conquests, and all that he achieved over those status-quo years, there remained one thing that escaped Vlad's grasp – successful production of his ghost-hunting weapons.

Vlad had done everything he could to ensure that his weapons would be properly manufactured. He had brought in people from what was once Yensid's side of the company who specialised specifically in mechanics to help his paranormalists. He went in and personally explained how to calibrate the machines, how the spectral fuel systems worked, and how to calculate everything. He provided ample supplies of all kinds of spectral material. He even had the Family's scientists look over his blueprints and try their hand. But it all seemed to be in vain. No matter where he went, no one seemed to be able to realise his designs. The technology was too complex and too alien for everyone he turned to. The Family's scientists were used to tinkering with real-world items, and they were slightly uncomfortable at the notion of building weapons designed to hurt them. Dalv's mechanics didn't know anything about paranormalcy. And the paranormalists still weren't used to this level of technology.

Vlad was seething over this situation. He had put those scientists to work more than five years ago. They hadn't managed a single breakthrough yet? Other than basic design and analysis, they hadn't been able to figure out _anything_. As much as Vlad hated to admit it, even Jack was better at this technology than these half-witted idiots. He had hundreds of blueprints now. He had even had a room in his castle renovated to serve as a private laboratory for these inventions. And the only thing he had that worked was still the Proto-Portal. Had he had the time, he would have built these himself, but as fate would have it, he did not have time. And he didn't have Maddie to spot any errors in calculations.

What he needed was an expert at spectral technology and weaponry. Someone with a head on his shoulders and a mindset somewhat like Vlad's. Someone who had one weak spot or need that Vlad could easily use to get this someone under his control. But what were the odds of him ever finding someone like that?

One night, several weeks after the accident's seventh anniversary, Vlad was out in The Ghost Zone. It was the rare night where he didn't have anything to do with Katou, the Family, or Dalv. He had a free evening. He was fully dressed in suit, coat, and hat, and he held a small scrap of parchment in his hand. It was a piece to a map. A map that once led to the Skeleton Key. It was not a full map, but it was the best lead he had found in a while. It showed the area of The Ghost Zone that the key was kept in. It was at the opposite end of the Order's realm as Pariah's Keep. But this part of the realm was just as bleak, desolate, and uninhabitable. The cause, like near the Keep, was fear. There had been many mysterious disappearances throughout this area. Ghost animals were frequently reported missing, and ghosts with unique or unusual powers or appearances had vanished without a trace. The strangest thing about all these disappearances was that no trace was left that would signal traditional hunting methods. There were often scorch marks and signs of a struggle left behind, but the scorch marks were not left by ghost-powers of fire. The Order's best spies had searched and found no trace of anything or anyone that could have been behind the disappearances. They occasionally came upon the ruins of what appeared to be some kind of armour, but nothing was ever inside. Something advanced was at work in this region.

These disappearances happened all over the realm, but they seemed to happen most often near a small island with an ominous skull-shaped rock. The island was covered in forest, jungle, swampland, moors, and marshes. It was rumoured that some kind of predator ghost lived there, though no one had ever found anything. Even in the caves along the mountains, there was nothing, save for some cages and a few old bones.

Vlad paid these rumours and events no heed as he looked over his scrap of parchment. He had but one night to go over this clue, and he would let nothing stand in his way.

"'To thou who seeks the key to all doors,'" he read aloud from the parchment, "'Find the rock of trees and moors,'" he looked up. Sure enough, the island with the forests and the skull rock was right in front of him. He let a smile come to his lips. This was going to be a snap.

"'From this rock, fly three miles west,'" he continued reading, "'And there thou shall find the next piece to thine quest,'" he slipped the parchment into the inside pocket of his overcoat and took off, continuing to wear his grin as he flew off to the west.

He did not notice at all that, far below him, hidden in a bush on the island, a large and dark figure was watching him with a pair of inferred binoculars.

"Hmm…" a raspy voice murmured, "half-human, half-ghost…" the figure slowly stepped out of the bush. He was a walking suit of mechanised battle-armour, hand-crafted and equipped with every spectral weapon and hunting tool he could fit in – all highly advanced, and all of his own design. Over this armour he had on some pieces of a mercenary's suit, a black band around his neck held by a skull, a belt with a stylised "S" buckle, and a black shirt and pants. A green mane of flames shot out from the back of his head, and a slight beard of flame rested on his chin. It was he who was responsible for all the disappearances in this area, and his new technology and a handy supply of his battle suits were to blame for the lack of evidence. His name was Skulker, and he was the greatest hunter in The Ghost Zone.

"He'll make a fine addition to my collection," Skulker said of Vlad as his face twisted into a nasty grin. That grin was soon wiped away as his left arm began to spark, smoke, and fall limp. With an angry growl Skulker seized his arm and shook it back and forth, and after a few times it came back to life.

"Cheap equipment," he growled as his jetpack opened up from his back and fired up, sending him in the direction of the half-ghost. He needed to get some more cash.

---

Vlad kept on heading west when he felt his breath turn cold. A stream of blue ectoplasmic smoke drifted from his mouth, and he stopped in mid-flight. He was not alone. He didn't turn around, but he let his eyes drift back and forth and he opened his ears, searching. There was no guarantee that the ghost would be trouble, but better safe than sorry.

The rustling of rope moving through space came up from behind, and Vlad just managed to materialise his sword, whip it out from its scabbard, and slice open the net that was about to snag him. He looked back to find that the net had been fired out of the right arm of a walking suit of battle armour sporting a nasty grin. And the armour looked very advanced.

"Greetings, half-ghost," the armour said in a raspy voice. Vlad arched an eyebrow. He wanted to get to the next piece to the Skeleton Key's puzzle tonight. And this new obstacle, though intimidating, didn't appear to be a huge threat. The suit looked worn-out and somewhat shoddy, as though this figure didn't have the money to put it together properly. But the level that the technology was at and the fact that it seemed designed to work on ghosts…Vlad smelled new opportunity arising.

"And you might be…?" he asked the armour nonchalantly.

"I am Skulker," the armour said dramatically, "A collector of things rare and unique. And you, half-ghost," he pointed at Vlad, "are that, and more," his left arm began to sputter and smoke, and Skulker's grin quickly fell away. He punched at his left arm, and after three particularly hard whacks, he finally got it to settle. Vlad let a smirk come to his face. Technologically advanced, malicious mindset, an easy weakness to exploit…he had found a rook for his chess set.

"Impressive battle suit you have there," he addressed Skulker politely, "Well-designed, meant specifically for ghosts, intimidating appearance…very good."

"You like it?" Skulker suddenly smiled, "It's the final perfected design! And now," his grin slipped back into its earlier malicious glare, "for the hunt!" an ectoplasmic plasma cannon, very similar to one Vlad had been trying to get built for years, sprung up from Skulker's right wrist and let off a huge blast of aqua energy. Still grinning, Vlad re-sheathed his blade and conjured up a wall of green. Skulker's blast just seemed to absorb into the shield. Vlad dropped it and shot green blasts out of his eyes. They met with their target, and Skulker went crashing up against a nearby door that looked like it belonged to a typical '50s suburban home.

"At last," Skulker continued to grin, despite being the one who had been caught in a blast, "A prey worthy of my skills!" he flew up, and missile launchers opened on his shoulders. He prepared to open fire. But sparks began to fly out of the left launcher, and smoke began to drift from the right. The left one broke off and vanished as it fell down into the never-ending void of The Ghost Zone, and the right one retracted back into his shoulder, which now began to smoke.

"No!" he began punching at his right arm now, "Stop!" another green blast hit him, and he went crashing back into the same door, this time falling through. He found himself in a never-ending black and pink void, populated by real-world items floating around. Everything from trumpets to baseball bats was there, but mostly, the space was taken up by boxes. A short, fat blue ghost with a cap, gloves, and overalls flew up. He looked like he belonged at a warehouse along an ocean shore and he had a stupid, fake-angry scowl on his face.

"Who dares to intrude upon The Box Ghost?" the little nimrod shouted. Skulker sighed. He had run into this figure a few times on his hunts, and he was getting sick of him. He extended his plasma cannon and pointed it at The Box Ghost's face.

"…Beware!" the blue ghost shouted, and he then retreated to the inside of a box. Skulker slowly pulled himself out of the doorway and back into the main realm of The Ghost Zone, searching for his prey.

"You do seem short of cash," a calm voice said behind him. Vlad leaned against the doorway, his arms crossed and a serene expression on his face. On the opposite side of the doorway, however, there was another Vlad, leaning against the door's frame with one hand.

"It's a shame you can't fully realise the extent of your technology," this second Vlad said. Skulker felt a tap on his right shoulder, and as he turned, he saw a third Vlad glaring at him with a cocky grin.

"I happen to have money to spare," this Vlad said. A fourth suddenly materialised by the third, and all four Vlads drifted out in front of the hunter-ghost.

"If you join me," they said in unison, "perhaps I could be tempted to lend you what you need," Skulker growled under his breath, not taking in a word of what the four Vlads had said. His prey was usually captured, wounded, or fleeing by now. Grateful though he may have been for a real challenge, he did not like the way this hunt was going. He had not hit once, he had been hit twice, and his quarry seemed to actually be enjoying himself. _No one_ acted this way when Skulker was after them. A bow-and-arrow popped up on his left arm and he shot the arrow at the Vlad nearest his left. That Vlad just went intangible, and it flew right through him. With a full-on roar, Skulker swung his right hand back and took a swipe at all the Vlads. They all flew out of his reach, and Skulker put so much force behind the missed punch that he ended up spinning around like a top three times. The four Vlads remained above him, grinning.

"Surely," they started together, but slowly drifted back into one Vlad, "you and I can work out some sort of deal," Skulker glared up at him. His plasma cannon opened up again, and he let out a shot. Vlad just let his grin become wider and raised and eyebrow. He stretched out his hands and caught the blast, letting it absorb into his hands. He then raised them up over his head, re-charged the blast, and fired it back down at Skulker, who could not dodge in time. He became enveloped in what was once his own blast, sparks and smoke pouring out from his armour. He began to shake violently. Within seconds, his armour had exploded, completely disrupted by the blast. The head popped off like a top, and Vlad reached out a hand and caught it. Inside the head was a tiny green blob with a mouth and two big eyes.

"I am the Skulker!" the little blob cried in a high-pitched voice, "The Skulker! I am the greatest hunter in all of Ghost-World! You will fear me!" Vlad chuckled and slowly lifted the tiny figure out of the head by his feet.

"Oh, please, Skulker," Vlad sighed dramatically, "Must I literally crush you in the palm of my hand before you realise you're outmatched? With the condition that last battle suit was in, I'm surprised you've managed any sort of reputation at all."

"That was an old suit! I have many left! You dare to mock me?"

"But wouldn't you rather be able to keep the same suit and have it working permanently? Please, won't you at least consider my offer?" Skulker looked as though he was about to make another retort, but something of resignation appeared in his eyes.

"Well…" he grumbled reluctantly, "Maybe I am a bit short on cash."

"Among other things," Vlad smiled, "But if you join me, I can assure you that money will never be out of your reach. Why don't we find somewhere to discuss all this?"

"Hmm…" Skulker put a hand to his chin, and Vlad just kept grinning. He had convinced enough people to do his bidding by now that he could sense when they were beginning to think how he wanted them to.

"Let us go to my lair," Skulker pointed back to the jungle-covered island. Vlad struggled to keep himself from letting out a laugh. It worked every time.

"Just so you don't get any ideas…" he added, just to be safe, "With the state that your technology's in, I can easily overcome any trap you decide to spring on me," he pulled Skulker close to his face, and shot a hint of threat out into his grin. Skulker held up his hands, gave him a nervous grin, and the two flew off towards Skulker's lair.

---

"Very impressive, Skulker," Vlad looked around, "Very impressive. The caves are left barren as a decoy, and everything of importance is hidden underground. Very good indeed," he was not exaggerating. Skulker truly had an amazing lair. Twisting one of the stalactites in the highest cave on the rock opened the trap door down to his private lair. It was an underground cave, but built into the rock walls was a vast array of computers, generators, monitors, surveillance systems, and plenty of weaponry. It was a bit of a shock to see how close some of Skulker's weapons came to the designs Vlad had drawn up for his own weapons. All of the technology had a shoddy, worn-out, old look to it, and it was quite clear that Skulker needed better finances to fully realise his inventions. But what he had scraped together was nevertheless better than anything produced at Dalv Corp. What wasn't already realised plastered the wall as blueprints. Vlad himself particularly interested in the plans for a spectral energy neutraliser, an expanding box that could trap any ghost within it.

There was something else down in Skulker's lair that also caught Vlad's fancy. This lair was filled with cages. And inside each one was a ghost of some unique quality. Some were animal ghosts of fearsome appearances and natures, from two mindless ecto-pusses fighting over the last scrap of their dinner to a gigantic ghost-squid. There were also more human ghosts. Some had the ability to morph into other forms. Others had unique variations of spectral blasts that they could perform. All had some trait that was unique unto them, and they made up Skulker's quarry. Those that weren't on display had their pelts hanging on the wall.

A few of the creature-ghosts were especially interesting. They were kept in special cages that had needles, scalpels, scissors, and lasers built into them. These ghosts weren't entirely themselves. They had extra limbs. They had misplaced body parts. And their size was unusual for their species. It appeared that Skulker also conducted his own experiments with ghosts – another asset Vlad could do with.

And seeing all of these captive ghosts sent the wheels turning in Vlad's mind. Skulker could be worth more to him than just a mechanic. His hunting, his experiments, his captives…if Vlad had Skulker, he would have the key to obtaining an army. These ghosts would be easy to control – if they could get caught by Skulker in a suit as bad as the one he had used on Vlad, they couldn't be too powerful. They would be expendable. And they would let Vlad finally escape the Family and the Order. If there was anything that needed to be done in The Ghost Zone that would be too incriminating for Vlad, he could send a minion off to do it for him. He could also send them off to rob inventions in the real world. They could do all the menial tasks and all the things that could ruin all that Vlad had gained, while he would be free to attend to more important matters.

And all he had to do was to finish off this little deal.

"We can marvel at my prizes later," Skulker stepped out of the shadows, occupying a new battle suit identical to his last, "What about your deal?"

"Ah, yes," Vlad smiled, clasping his hands behind his back, "The deal. You're obviously skilled at technology, Skulker, and your expertise at experimentation and hunting are clear. I have need of someone with your many talents. And as you have the right mindset for the work I need done and as we both have something that the other needs, I see no need to pass up the opportunity," Skulker raised his eyebrow in a manner so similar to Vlad that the half-ghost couldn't help but laugh a little.

"Go on," the hunter-ghost nodded.

"I have the money and power to get you everything you need to fully realise your inventions," Vlad moved closer to Skulker, twirling the end of his overcoat dramatically, "Your battle suit could become fully operational and at maximum efficiency. That spectral energy neutraliser you've designed could be finished. Your weaponry would become truly state-of-the-art. And your experiments could be conducted in a far more controlled environment. Of course most of the mechanic work you'd still have to do yourself, but I could give you the money to make sure that everything would be realised to the full extent of your visions."

"And in return?" Skulker asked, a grin now resting on his face as well.

"I want you to build my weapons," Vlad replied simply, "I've been designing my own spectral weaponry for years. My time is taken up by other matters, and my scientists can't figure out the technology. But for you, it's like a second nature."

"Well," Skulker rubbed the back of his head and let his grin turn sheepish, "I don't know if I'd put it like that, but…"

"And," Vlad interrupted, "Should I agree to finance you indefinitely, would you be willing to carry on our deal in other ways? Run a few errands, conduct a few experiments, go on some hunting trips and help me amass a reliable group of minions?" Skulker dropped his hand and stared at Vlad intently. Vlad looked right back at him, still wearing a sneaky grin with one raised eyebrow. He could almost hear what was going on inside the hunter-ghost's mind. He had set the play up. Now he just need to wait…

"Who are you?" Skulker asked after several minutes had passed.

"Masters," Vlad said casually, "Vlad Masters." He fidgeted with the collar of his overcoat as he waited for the response. Several more minutes passed as Skulker put a hand to his chin and began to pace the room. Vlad kept adjusting the collar on his coat or the brim of his hat, patiently awaiting his answer. Finally, after Skulker had paced around so much that his legs were beginning to spark from all the use…

"Vlad," Skulker turned to face him, "We have a deal," he pressed a button on his right wrist. A tray with two glasses and a pitcher of red ectoplasm drifted in between them. Skulker filled both glasses, and both of the ghosts took one.

"Skulker," Vlad raised his glass, "I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship," and with that, he drained his glass in one gulp. He felt a rush of cold flow through his body, he saw his aura flare up, and in the reflection of his glass, he saw his eyes flash red. The sensation passed as quickly as it had come, and Vlad looked back up at Skulker.

"Now," he said, "For the first order of business…"


	14. The Board is Set Up

The three vulture ghosts kept their wings flapping, though since they were ghosts, they didn't need to move their wings to fly. They had just finished a night at the lodge. It had been fairly uneventful – a few of the other vultures had discussed their latest hauntings over a plate of ghost-mice, and they'd all talked about all the things that were wrong with The Ghost Zone these days. Now they were on their way home. Unfortunately, as all three of them were 1,995 years old, remembering where there home was and how far it was from the lodge became a bit difficult. One of them was always in charge of leading the way, and they rotated every week. This week, it was the bald one's turn. And he had decided to lead them on a detour. A detour that had lasted for four hours now. The other two were growing impatient.

"We've passed that door five times now!" the one with hair and a normal beak said, pointing to a nearby church door. "And we've been out here for hours!"

"I know it's around here somewhere!" the bald one said absentmindedly, searching around.

"You've been saying that for 120 years! We haven't found anything once! Face it! There's no natural gateway to Florida around here!"

"No, no! I saw it! I was there! Orange groves, beaches, senior citizens, everything! I know it's here!"

"You so do not!" the third vulture with a bent beak piped up.

"You're almost 2,000 years old and you're losing your mind!" the one with a straight beak added. "We go through this every week when it's your turn to take us home! We're lucky we ever find our way back to the lodge, let alone our nest!"

"Oh?" the bald vulture, now growing irritated, turned to face his two companions, "You think you can find the way home! We once got lost for a week in a box-world because of you! That blue whippersnapper we ran into never shut up once! It's my night to lead us home, and we're going to look for that gateway to Florida!" a loud snap went off near them, and instantly the three had something else on their mind.

"You boys hear something?" the vulture with the bent beak asked. Suddenly, a blue ghost net sprung out, seemingly from nowhere, and snagged all three of them. They frantically tried to escape, pecking at the net and pulling at it with their legs, but there was no escape. They were trapped like rats, and soon got a look at their captors. One was a walking suit of fearsome battle armour, attached to the net by a cable extending from his left arm. The other was a cultured-looking man with long, neat hair, a grey fedora with a rose on it, and a long black overcoat covering an Armani suit.

"Not much for brains, strength, or anything else," the cultured man smirked, "But they'll do for errands. Bring them," the armour drifted forward towards the net obediently, wearing his own nasty smirk that sent all three vultures into a cold tremor.

---

"Excellent!" Technus cried, "As a ghost, I, Technus, have far more control over my beautiful technology than I could ever hope to obtain in the real-world!" it was true. As a ghost, Technus had the ability to manipulate and control any form of electrical technology that was from the real world. He could activate them, make them levitate, give them spectral power, and bring them to him. Endless possibilities lay before him with these powers. He could build his battle suit. He could assemble the greatest display of technology ever prepared. And he no longer had need for an Ultra-Computer. With his ghost-powers, he could spread his intellect to all machines with ease.

"Time to begin!" Technus declared aloud for himself, "For I, Technus, now ghost-master of all things electronic and beeping, must set out to find a large gathering of technology as a means by which to build myself…" he heard a crash go off behind him, and he whirled around. He saw no one.

"Who dares to interrupt me, Technus, Master of Science and electrical technology?" he yelled, his Electro-staff materialising in his hand. No one came out to face him. One red blast of ectoplasm did, however. Technus went crashing up against a door, his Electro-staff falling into The Ghost Zone. A black box came flying towards him from the same direction, opening up and expanding as it headed towards him. Before Technus could move, he had been trapped within the box.

"Wha…" he muttered. He had tried to fire off an ecto-blast to free himself, but nothing had happened. "This box is disrupting my new, groovy ghost powers! How the…" he looked up. His two captors had drifted out of the shadows. One he did not recognise – the walking suit of battle armour. But his second captive was a very familiar face.

"Vlad?" Technus said, astonished, "What are you doing here?" his old partner didn't answer. Instead, he just chuckled and shot Technus a devilish grin.

---

The ghost-bison leapt out from behind the bushes and onto the dirt path, red eyes frantically darting around in an attempt to find a hiding place. When it could find one, it took off down the dirt path, adrenaline pushing it forward at a faster pace than it could usually manage. The source of his terror was not far behind.

A ghost vehicle that resembled a hunting jeep save for a more technological look plowed through the bushes that the bison had come from and pulled out onto the dirt road. Behind the wheel was a ferocious-looking mechanical being with his right hand on the wheel and his left hanging out of the jeep, trying to fire off a ghost-net built into his arm. In the back was a well-dressed man with long hair and an unshaven face, who watched the bison in front of the jeep intently.

"Fire," the man said nonchalantly to the mechanical figure. The robotic being grinned and stretched his left arm out, tightening his hand into a fist. A long cord shot out from his arm, and at the end of it was a blue glowing ghost net. The bison saw the net out of the corner of its eye. With one last burst of adrenaline it tried to escape, but to no avail. The rope closed around it, and it fell to the ground, trapped.

The jeep pulled off to the side of the path, coming to a screeching halt. The mechanical being leapt out of the jeep and ran over to the captured prey, while the long-haired man gracefully flew out and floated over. He remained hovering just above his terrified captive, letting a small smile come to his face as his robotic minion prepared to hit the button on his arm that would electrocute the net.

---

Vlad, Luchesi, and the don's seven advisors stood just outside the Family's building, Vlad out in front of the eight leaders of the mob with his arms crossed. He had a serene look on his face as he took in the sight before him. Luchesi had the same bulldog appearance as he always did, looking as though he wanted to get back inside. Six of the advisors stood intently and obediently, stoic looks on their faces. Tony was noticeably jittery, taking great care to throw Vlad a dirty look every few seconds. His hands had a tight grip on an edition of _The Ghost-Zone Times_ with the headline "DISAPPEARANCES REACH THIRD MONTH."

That headline led to a hint of maliciousness filtering into Vlad's expression. He had taken up reading that paper, and he had been at the Order's sanctuary earlier that week to look up a lead on Pariah's Keep and had overheard Arthur and Majeed talking. Word of his and Skulker's little hunting party had spread quickly. All over The Ghost Zone people were talking about the mysterious disappearances that had been happening as of late. Ghosts of all kinds had been vanishing without a trace. It happened in the territory of the Order. It happened in areas that were run by the Family. Members of both the Order and the Family had been counted among those missing. Even Walker had lost a few men. And the Order was the only one with a lead – the disappearances were similar to the ones near Skulker's lair. But that was all they knew. And it was all Vlad wanted them to know…for now.

"So what is this all about?" Luchesi suddenly asked in a heated voice. "Why couldn't we do this inside?"

"I'm sure you remember a little promise you made me a few years ago?" Vlad began cordially, letting his grin slip into a slyer look. "I saved Tony's life, and you said that I was owed a debt of gratitude? That if there was ever anything I ever needed to benefit myself I needed only to ask it of you, and I would have it?"

"So I did." Luchesi nodded. "I suppose that's what this is all about. But why couldn't we have done all this inside?"

"I've given this a lot of thought," Vlad went on as though Luchesi had said nothing. "It's getting rather risky for me to personally be committing all these heists and thefts. After all, I am the one running Dalv Corp now. Even with my ghost-powers there's always the chance that something could go wrong, and if I were even so much as vaguely connected with any of these little robberies, it could be quite embarrassing. It may even compromise our entire deal. And I still have the Order to worry about…"

"Why don't you leave then?" Tony suddenly quipped. "They allow resignations. Or aren't you after something for yourself there?" An unnatural silence fell over all of them. Vlad met Tony's glare and raised one eyebrow in response. The other six advisors all took one step back in perfect unison. And Luchesi suddenly rounded on Tony and slapped him hard across the face.

"Whatsa matter with you?" the don snarled. "Enough of all of this shifty-eyed nonsense of yours!" he turned back to Vlad, instantly calming down.

"So what is it you want for this little problem?" he asked calmly.

"Oh, it's nothing, really," Vlad chuckled. "I just need my own men. A group of people who will report to me and me alone, whom I can put on anything I need them to do, and who will be considered as my _personal_ employees." He made sure to put just the right amount of emphasis into that word "personal." Vlad watched smugly as Tony's eyes seemed to nearly pop out of his head. He could also sense a change in the don's attitude as well. Luchesi showed no signs of fear, but Vlad could see that suspicion now rested in the mob boss's eyes. Vlad had asked for a deal that was entirely one-sided. There were no loopholes he left open for exploitation, no overlooked details that the Family could use to make sure he stayed in line. And Vlad had gotten a good enough measure of Luchesi to know that the don couldn't back out of his debt to Vlad without impugning his "honour."

There was only one hole in the deal that Vlad had left open for the don to exploit…and Vlad already knew how to patch it up.

"You sure you want this as our deal?" Luchesi finally asked. He made an attempt to hide his suspicion, but a bit of it couldn't help but leak out into his tone. "Well, I am bound to grant this to you. But I am afraid that our own boys are stretched rather thin as it is. It may take quite some time to get you your men." Vlad could tell instantly that Luchesi was lying. He had been in the business world for several years now and had gotten quite used to all of the things Luchesi said to keep the Family in power. He knew a prevaricator when he saw one.

Fortunately, it didn't matter.

"Oh, that's quite alright," Vlad said, placing his hands behind his back. "I've taken the liberty of…hiring a few people myself. And that," he moved his hands out in front of him, rolling back his left sleeve to reveal his watch, "is why we couldn't do this inside." He lifted his watch up towards his face, hit a small button on the side, and gave the members of the mob one last sly grin before speaking into his timepiece.

"Come in."

The door that led outside to the main realm of The Ghost Zone opened, and Skulker, in a newly crafted, finely polished, and fully operational battle suit, jumped down and landed next to Vlad, a nasty grin on his face. In his wake followed three old ghost-vultures wearing fezzes, which flew down and perched themselves on the roof of the Mafia's headquarters. After them came a ghost-squid of impressive size and with one eye. Following the squid, there was a ghost-wolf, and then came Skulker's two ecto-pusses. The next ghost to come had all of the mob members standing with their jaws hanging open, and Vlad delighted in their shock. This next ghost was the Family's own Eel.

One by one strange and bizarre animal-ghosts began to fly into the space, either landing behind Vlad on the cobblestone road around the Mafia's headquarters or perching themselves along the roof of the building. Their numbers continued to multiply, and Vlad watched as the eight most important members of the Family grew more panicked. Tony had pulled a handkerchief from his jacket and had begun to dab at the sweat forming on his face, shaking worse than ever. The six other advisors conversed among one another in hushed whispers. And Luchesi, though he tried his best to keep himself reserved, still radiated with an aura of suspicion, and he cast a curious expression in Vlad's direction. Vlad could sense that the paternal attitude that Luchesi had taken towards him would not last much longer. But that didn't concern him. The don still wasn't as apprehensive as Tony. He wasn't even as nervous as the other six advisors. If Luchesi hadn't caught on to what Vlad could do and planned to do by this point, he wouldn't prove himself a burden now.

"Do we have a deal?" Vlad asked cordially, bringing himself back into focus.

"Done." Luchesi nodded simply and sighed. "If you will excuse us now, Vlad, we will be heading inside." The don turned sharply and marched for the door, his seven henchmen following in his wake. Tony took the time to give one last haunted glare in Vlad's direction before stepping inside at the end of the line, shutting the door behind him.

Vlad watched the Mafia figures slip back into their headquarters contentedly, amusement flowing throughout his body. All was going as he needed it to be.

"Now just so we're clear…" the ghost-vulture with a straight beak and hair flew up to Vlad's side "…Thursday is still lodge night, yes?"

"Yes." The smile fell from Vlad's face. "And ask me that again, and I'll let Skulker turn you into his next night's supper." He watched as the vulture turned to look at a grinning Skulker, who had produced a fork and knife from two compartments on his lower wrists. The vulture quickly flew back to the roof, and Vlad turned curtly to face his many minions.

"Let's go." He kicked down hard and lifted up off the ground, heading out the door to the outside realm that had foolishly been left open. Skulker, the vultures, and all the other beasts were quick to follow, the last one out remembering to shut the door this time.

---

Katou calmly flew through The Ghost Zone, a map held out in front of him to guide him to his destination. It had been quite a long time since he'd been on a lone flight like this.

The spread of the mysterious disappearances over the past few months had him and the founding council out on search parties, trying to find a trace of the vanished or evidence of the culprit. Thus far, they had been unsuccessful. Early in the quest, the usual suspects were quickly eliminated – both Walker and the Family had suffered losses at the hands of the mystery abductor. And the vanishings themselves were unlike anything that had been encountered before. The only similar incidents on record were a series of abductions at one of the far ends of the Order's territory, but even these weren't the same. The hulking metal scraps that appeared to be pieces of a larger design no longer appeared. And though the few signs left by the earlier disappearances had suggested an advanced being or tool at work, what was left in these incidents made the previous evidence look prehistoric. There was clearly a highly advanced technological force behind all this, of the kind that the Order deemed unethical, Walker deemed illegal, and the Family deemed unwise to use in the name of their "business" ventures.

Three months out now, and they had come by nothing. Ghosts of all kinds had continued to vanish, and just two weeks ago, a scout who had once been Majeed's apprentice had come by what was left of a ghost who had been shot with some sort of blast and left to decompose. Examinations of the wound revealed that it was not from any known weapon used by the Order, the Family, or Walker, and it did not appear to be a spectral blast fired by another ghost. There were no other signs that would suggest a struggle. And the blast looked similar enough to evidence from the disappearances to suggest a connection, yet it appeared to come from a different kind of device. The reason for the change in tools and the fact that this ghost was destroyed, not abducted, made absolutely no sense. Only two explanations had been inferred – this ghost had been murdered by a different force with similar tools, or the ghost behind the abductions was testing new weaponry.

With all that had been going on with that situation, it seemed a bit superferlous to be worrying about a portal to the real world, but this was not an ordinary portal. It was much larger in size than any other gateway known, and it was not natural. It had broken into The Ghost Zone from the real world, rather than a doorway in The Ghost Zone filtering out into the real-world through some connection or other on the part of the ghost that lived behind that door. An artificial portal was not something to be taken lightly, and Katou had offered to investigate.

Arthur and Manach had suggested that Katou send Vlad out to look into this, as he had his own artificial portal, but as Vlad wasn't yet a member of the Order, Katou objected to it. Despite the tensions between them, Katou still held out hope that his apprentice could repent and become a member of the Order. He had not yet told the other members of the founding council about his dispute with Vlad for a number of reasons, but he had not yet lost all faith in his apprentice. But his worry had continued to build. He knew that Vlad had least some involvement in the Guyart incident, and that meant he had ties to the Family. There was no way that Vlad would ever forgive Jack, and that would always be a tragic flaw that could lead him to temptation. And there was something about Vlad's career as a CEO in the real world that did not seem right to Katou.

Something was amiss about his apprentice. And he had thus far found himself without the heart to press the matter as hardly as he should have.

He cleared his mind of those thoughts as he looked down toward his map and back up again. Right in front of him was a swirling vortex of bright green and white in an octagonal shape. Tucking the scrap of parchment away in his cloak, Katou stepped inside. A short distance ahead of him were sliding doors in the same octagon-shape, marked with diagonal yellow-and-black stripes. The doors were shut tight, but that was not of any concern. Katou drew his sword, wedged into the thin line where they met, and once he had opened up enough space, he pushed the doors aside and stepped out into the real-world.

He found himself in a large, dimly lit laboratory, the floor tiled in dark marble. The ceiling was high above the floor, odd and bizarre tools and devices connected to it by wires, cables, mechanics, and some kind of system designed to lower the objects. Three curved tables arranged in a circular shape were right before Katou, holding test tubes, beakers, notes, a microscope, controls to some gadget or other, and an unmarked container. Another table up against the wall on the left side of the room held more beakers. The far side of the lab held a cold, hard slab meant to serve as a bed. On the right side there were three large generators and more controls. By the controls was the hard steel door out of the lab. And scattered throughout, on tables, up against walls, and on the floor, were strange and advanced-looking guns, lasers, and weapons unlike anything Katou had ever seen.

The samurai took in the sight before him as well as he could, but there was an unnerving quality to this place. The only light source he could discern was the glow from the portal behind him, which cast long shadows and an eerie tint across the lab. The tools, devices, and weapons scattered throughout did not appear human or Earthly. A ghostly hum emitted from the portal behind him. And he could have sworn that behind the door to the lab, he had heard a mournful howl.

There the howl went again.

And again.

And yet a fourth time.

What was this place?

Drawing his sword again as a precaution, Katou floated over and phased through the door. When he saw what was on the other side, he couldn't help but fumble with his blade.

It was another dark room, long and dimly lit by flickering red lights. Strapped down to surgery tables by unbreakable ghost-braces, at least twenty-five ghost-animals were confined. An additional twelve were shoved against the wall, kept in cages. But these in cages were not normal. Some had extra or missing eyes. Some had no eyes at all. One ghost-bear had a third limb, and a ghost-rabbit was freakishly large and its teeth had become sharp. Some ghosts were bits and pieces of several animals, assembled together to create the most foul and grotesque beasts imaginable. All the ghosts strapped down had panic in their eyes, letting out howls and cries for help.

Katou summoned back his composure and tightened the grip on his sword. There was only one thing to do. But before he could cut the first restraint, the door slid open behind him. He quickly whirled around, stepping into a defensive position, ready to ward off whatever may have been behind him…

…And he found Vlad Masters standing in the doorway.

"Vlad?"

Katou stepped down out of his defensive stance, but regarded his apprentice with both surprise and concern. He had rarely ever seen Vlad in human form save for brief instances when Vlad used it as a tactic in training, so just seeing him with white hair was unusual. And today, Vlad was clad in a white labsuit with a black lapel, black gloves, black boots, and a black belt. The shirt of his labsuit hung down to just above the top of his thighs, held in place by the belt. The suit was hazmat and clung to his form, and it made Vlad seem better built than his usual Armani suit did.

He had his hands clasped behind his back and his one eyebrow arched high, daggers shooting out of his eyes towards the samurai.

"What brings you to these parts?" he cooed.

"Your new portal didn't go unnoticed." Katou pulled himself together with a simple breath. "I came to see where it led."

"Well, I think you've found that out now, hmm?" His tone clearly indicated how he felt on Katou's staying here, but the samurai was not through yet.

"What is all this?" he motioned behind him towards the Hell in the back of the room. Vlad paid it no mind. He didn't even blink.

"I was not the one to…make the modifications, if that's what you're getting at. The way in is also the way out." He pointed back towards the portal, once again letting the daggers of his eyes fly at the samurai. Katou locked onto Vlad's gaze as he slowly re-sheathed his blade. The two held their glares for a small eternity, the fires in neither of their eyes cooling.

Finally, never taking his eyes off his apprentice, Katou bowed cordially, passed Vlad, and moved toward the portal. The second he stepped out of the room, he heard the doors slide shut behind him. Vlad had not followed him out.

Katou began to walk towards the portal when his foot disturbed one of the weapons lying on the floor. A shot of hot red laser went off, leaving a scorch mark on the metal rim around the portal.

Katou eyed the mark as red smoke drifted from it and became one with the air. He knew that mark. He had seen it and others like it many times. And many times it had been recorded as evidence for the strange disappearances throughout The Ghost Zone.

The samurai did not let his expression change. He did not let a glint of fear slip underneath his eyes. He silenced every thought in his mind that was screaming to get out into the open. He kept himself calm and collected as he flew back into The Ghost Zone, letting only a sigh escape him.

The pain, the loss, and the burden would be let out at a later time and in controlled measures.


	15. All in Place

"Vlad Masters, CEO and Chairman of the technological company Dalv Corp, has just been named _Affluence Magazine's_ 'Billionaire of the Year: 1996' for his generous contribution to the efforts to provide relief for those suffering from the ten-year guerrilla uprising in Rumackistan. The man who was a college junior cooped up in a hospital twelve years ago has become an icon in American and International business, as his company has made one breakthrough after another in everything from household appliances to advanced robotics. And yet Masters himself remains very much an anomaly. An interview he granted two years ago – the only one he's ever granted outside press conferences for Dalv – revealed only that he had been placed in a hospital towards the end of his junior year and that he had set up Dalv after pursuing a number of small jobs. Beyond this, everything else known about Masters comes from business records, purchases, and press statements. A recluse, he's rarely been seen leaving his castle in Wisconsin or his cabin out in the Rockies, and he attends only a few social events a year. Though he's a mystery man, one thing's for sure – Vlad Masters has made his mark on science, and with this award, he's begun to gather a reputation as a great humanitarian. And now, for sports –"

Vlad Masters hit the "power" button on his remote control as the news report on himself ended. He was sprawled out, relaxed, in an outstretched rocking chair in the den of his castle, wrapped up in a white silk robe and sipping at Earl Grey tea. His white hair was still long and kept back in a ponytail, and he had begun to keep himself clean-shaven save for his goatee. An issue of _Affluence Magazine_ with his image on the cover rested on the table next to his chair. Behind him, a fire roasted away in a natural fireplace.

Vlad chuckled lightly to himself as he thought over what he had just heard. He had indeed made himself an anomaly. He had granted that one interview for the sole purpose of spicing up what little the human public knew of him with just enough tragedy to make him sympathetic. The business that Dalv Corp did and the records of his purchases and donations spoke for themselves. He had been getting more and more control over his company from the Family, and it kept paying off. The paranormal activities had remained hidden, and virtually that entire department had been left to Skulker and Technus. The perfect façade had been crafted for the public. And as to the images he had set up for the Family and for the Order… 

The Family would do nothing as long as Luchesi kept his attitude of mild suspicion and nothing more, and only Katou had begun to uncover what lay beneath the surface. Both would be dealt with as soon as Vlad was sure that his equipment and his minions were ready. 

In the meantime, he had his men testing out the weaponry on unsuspecting ghosts (or sometimes individuals with Walker, the Family, or the Order who, by association with one of Vlad's henchmen, had begun to get too lose to the truth) and tracking down leads on the Skeleton Key and Pariah's Keep. He himself would go to retrieve the key, the ring, and the crown, of course, but for the dirty work of finding it, he could trust lesser beings to do so. 

And as soon as he had taken care of all that and made a bid for the Packers, there would be just one thing left to make his life complete. _Maddie_. 

The report was right, Vlad thought. He had become a humanitarian. 

At least to the one person that mattered. 

--- 

"How can you be so calm about him?" Tony raved.

He, Luchesi, and the six other advisors were gathered in the don's office, which, for some bizarre reason or other, appeared even darker than normal. Luchesi sat comfortably at his desk with his cape over the back of his chair, six of his advisors standing behind him with their backs against the window. Tony stood across from the don, leaning against his desk. The circles around his eyes were darker than ever, his hair hung in his face more than usual, and his voice shook along with his body.

"Have you seen how he works? Dalv Corp is now entirely his! There is nothing left that we get except for some small inventions that don't sell for much and only half of the profits! And his army! You cannot tell me that over these last few years, some of these vanishings and exterminations were not a result of him. Before these happened, he began asking our scientists to build him weapons to destroy ghosts! It is him! And yet you sit there, doing nothing, letting him run circles around you until, one day, he will –"

"_Silence!_" Luchesi barked, slamming his fist down hard on the desk. "You telling me how to do my job? Maybe you think you should be the one sitting at this desk, eh?"

"What I'm thinking is that you should get rid of Vlad Masters!" Tony screeched. It was quite clear that this concern over Vlad was not his typical paranoia or cowardice. He was deadly serious.

"What?" Luchesi snapped back. "You think I do not know the strings Vlad has been pulling? You think I don't know that he can't be trusted? I have known this since he moved in on our deal five years ago. That was all on his side, nothing for us. I know what he's working at."

"So you let him work at it? When he's ready, he'll –"

" – He won't do it." Luchesi cut in. "No way, no how. He will never take us down and get us out of his way. He has his army and the real world, but he won't tear us down. We outnumber him. He had to go into the slime of The Ghost Zone to get his men. And they are not equipped to face us. We have our weapons, our boys, and our scientists."

"But don't you get it?" Tony screamed. "All these disappearances, all these exterminations, all done by some technological force…he's developing the weapons he asked our scientists to build! He's testing them on anyone he can find, including our boys! And he converted Eel! Maybe he's not ready yet, but he will be!"

"You forget – he has the Order to deal with, and Walker if he gets found out."

"You think the Order will be able to fight against those weapons! Hardly any of them have ever even touched a ghost-gun! And Walker doesn't even know the name 'Masters!' You think they'll hold him back?"

"Let him alone." Luchesi sighed. "His weapons are not ready, and until they are, he won't pull anything. If things get too risky, I'll make him an offer he can't refuse. You worry far too much, Tony. Now we are done here," he rose up and draped his cape over his shoulders, "and I have an occasion to attend." The don moved out from behind his desk and floated towards the door, the six advisors following him. Tony stayed where he was, still leaning against the desk. He did not turn to look at them. His eyes now looked at an edition of _The Ghost-Zone Times_ that had been covered by the cape. It was the same copy that Tony had been reading when Vlad had called on Luchesi's deal – tattered, torn, and a coffee stain splattered across the front page. Such headlines had been occurring for the past five years, and each had been adding to Tony's concerns. He had been following them carefully, shifting through the clues, piecing together his disturbing conclusions about Vlad, the disappearances, the weapons used, and their connection.

And it just took this last conversation with an old fool to make it seem like a waste of his years.

Tony struggled to keep himself from falling to his knees. He let out a sigh. He slammed his fist down hard on the desk, then reluctantly turned to follow the don.

Having accomplished nothing, he was in no mood for a party, but what Luchesi said went.

---

"The signs are not good." Manach sighed. "Storm clouds are gathering."

The six members of the founding council were seated at their cushions in the main room of the Order's Chinese palace. They gazed up towards their three maps of The Ghost-Zone. All three maps were heavily marked with red "Xs." Each "X" stood for one of the mysterious disappearances or deaths. And over the course of five years, they had assembled quite a large number of reports.

The Order had made no leeway over those five years. They had merely accumulated more of the same information and evidence over and over again. All their tracking, all their years of study, their research, their attempts at deduction…it had all amounted to naught.

They had been forced to turn to a dark alternative.

Deep within the darkest bowels of The Ghost Zone were twin ancient beings. Older than the Order, older than Pariah and the Ancients who defeated him…they may have been as old as time itself. Very few knew of their existence, and due to their ways, it wasn't something that they wanted out as public knowledge. Omnipotent, they kept watch over time, recording the past and looking toward the future in a desire to keep both The Ghost Zone and the real world safe. Unfortunately, their way of viewing time as an unbending, ever-constant parade led them to exact a very harsh and severe solution to any problems they saw. There were no second chances as far as they were concerned. And as their oath was to watch and never act, they sent the Master of Time, Clockwork, to carry out their "justice –" and, Clockwork being far more forgiving and open to the turns that time could take, he was often working against his will. These beings were known as the Observants.

Unfortunately, the Observants and the Order did not have a peaceful relationship, as the Order had several times stood in the way of the Observants' will (and sometimes with Clockwork's blessing). And being the snippy, stubborn pair that they were, the Observants held each instance as a personal offence – even when a twist in time had proven their prophecies wrong. Furthermore, they were very particular about sharing their sights with beings whose powers did not dwell within horology.

The one member of the Order they would consent to even see was Manach, whose own unique powers of meditation gave him limited insight to prophetic visions. But they steadfastly refused to tell the monk anything, saying that if they wanted the future, they would have to go to Clockwork. He gave them a vision, but warned that it would not be complete. The Order's greatest trial was soon coming, and the Master of Time felt it wrong to do any more than give them a starting point. They needed to piece together the clues and face this alone.

The vision they had been given made every horror they had ever faced seem calm and gentle as a summer's night.

Walker was the only authority figure left in The Ghost Zone that they could see, but total chaos had erupted. Any and all order had fallen to pieces, Walker having control over his prisoners and nothing more. The only control at all seemed to be in the hands of a vampiric presence. Blue-skinned, with devil-hair and a white cloak, the ghost yielded red spectral energy and had the alliances of many. He had been seen in company with a ghost that should never have been awakened – the Fright Knight. He had been seen in a Gothic castle in the dead of night, delighting in taunting a young, kind-looking ghost-boy. And the final image of the vision was that same ghost-boy and the vampiric ghost in the process of fusion, creating a being more evil and vicious than even Pariah Dark.

Clockwork said that the final image was more related to another matter, one that didn't concern the Order. They needed to concern themselves with the vampiric ghost. And a transparent image of the ghost's face made up of green smoke hovered over the Order's cauldron before the three maps. The founding council had been turning their focus from the maps to the face, trying to contemplate what it all meant and how it all fit together.

The one inference they had thus far made was that the vampiric ghost was the one behind all the vanishings. And so their first task after receiving the vision was to have as many of the Order's men as they could spare to search for this ghost or anything about him. With so many of their finest distracted by trying to stop the disappearances themselves, it was difficult to find warriors to take up this task, but they had managed to put together a search party. Their efforts, however, proved to be in vain. Not a trace of this vampiric monstrosity could be found anywhere. Nothing they found came remotely close to leading them to the ghost. The search party, unsolicited and at great risk to themselves, had even gone into territory controlled by the Family and Walker to seek answers there. The only thing they had found that remotely tied in to their case was a handful of terrified ghosts who knew other ghosts on the payroll of a shadowed, powerful figure. They said that among the ghosts who were being abducted or destroyed, those who were associated with these ghosts were prime targets. They were too terrified to give anything more coherent than that, and often fled as soon as they had said that much.

The search party was also charged with tracking down anything else from the vision that may have lead to finding the vampiric ghost. The castle, the ghost-boy, and the Fright Knight were moved to the front of the list. Frequently they paid visit to Pariah's Keep to insure that the Soul Shredder was embedded inside the pumpkin that sat on the knight's former throne. And throughout the entire Ghost-Zone they travelled, searching for a Gothic castle to match the one in the prophecy, and for the spirited ghost-boy who dared to oppose the nosferatu. There was many a castle in the realm, and a good number of them had their architectural roots set in the Middle Ages. But none matched the white stone masonry of the prophecy's castle, and none took on the midnight blue hue in the moonlight.

The ghost-boy proved even harder to find. Teenage ghosts existed, to be sure – several served the Order as apprentices – but none that they could find resembled the vision's youth in any way. The symbol on his chest in the latter image when he and the nosferatu merged proved a burden to their search, as it didn't appear in the earlier part of the vision. And no ghost wore a spandex suit such as that. They were even more lost there than with their search for the castle.

With the lack of success and the vanishings continuing without hindrance, the Order's mood and that of The Ghost-Zone at large had turned bleak. But until the very end, the founding council was determined to find their way.

"I have had disturbing visions come to me in my meditations." Manach continued. "I fear our time may soon grow short."

"I've heard nothing from our party since the winter solstice." Wizikute sighed.

"We've had no luck slowing these tragedies." Majeed lamented.

"And we have been losing morale for a long time now." Arthur said.

"I notice you have not yet lent us your opinion, Katou." Manach suddenly observed, and all eyes turned towards the samurai. He had indeed been silent the entire time, his chin resting on one of his hands and his gaze going out into nothing. His silence was not really uncommon now. For five years there had been a melancholy air about him, but with all else that was going on, his fellow warriors had not been able to talk with him about it.

Manach, however, had detected a haunted look in Katou's eyes, and he had slowly been sensing what had put it there.

"What could I say that you all haven't already?" the samurai shrugged, not turning to look at them.

"I sense something troubling you, my friend." Manach said quietly. "And I sense that it relates to the matter at hand, and in a way that the five of us cannot know."

Katou sighed. The monk was right, of course. There was something about all this that was troubling him and him alone. And it was something he needed to share. It was the key to the entire mystery. He had kept this knowledge for five years, always knowing it was best that he share it and that failing to do so would have dire consequences. What he knew confirmed suspicions he had long held. He had no reason to be shocked or afraid of it.

But suspicion of betrayal and knowledge of it were two entirely different things. And that difference had kept him silence for five years.

"Katou?" Arthur said gently.

The samurai slowly turned to face the others and let go of his fear.

"I think that Vlad Masters is the one behind these disappearances, and that he will become the nosferatu ghost we saw in the vision."

The other five members of the founding council stared at him as if they had each been hit in the face with a sandbag.

"You speak of your apprentice?" Manach asked, to which the samurai nodded.

"Why would he…" Arthur began.

"For a long time now he and I have been growing apart." Katou explained. "Our training sessions are no longer diurnal. He has disregarded much of _bushido_ and our moral teachings. I found his hat at the site where Guyart was lost. I fear he may be caught deep in the web of the Family. And five years ago…I…I found that the man-made portal we had found belonged to him, and in the laboratory where he keeps it, he has…been experimenting with animal ghosts and building weapons that leave the same marks as we have been finding." The samurai sank lower into his cushion and let out a great sigh. Reliving all of that was worse than any battle.

The others looked among themselves, their confused expressions turning stern and thoughtful. They were not angry at Katou for holding back all of that about his apprentice – it was hard to deal with betrayal and to speak ill of someone one cared for. But Vlad knew much about the Order. If he was in league with the Family, he would have known about them too. And Walker was not difficult to figure out.

The founding council had signs of their own that Vlad was not to be trusted – his unexplained research into the legend of Pariah. But they had not looked deeply enough into the matter to see what it meant. Now, if Katou's suspicions held true, the Order was faced with an enemy who not only knew all that he was up against, but had made sufficient leeway on them.

Clockwork's assessment of the task ahead was hardly an exaggeration.

"Katou," Arthur said calmly, "Why don't you go to Manach's meditation chamber and rest a while?"

The samurai nodded. He certainly did not want to deal with this any more tonight. He rose up out of the cushion and floated out of the room and towards the stairs that led up to Manach's camber.

Arthur waited until he had left the room before beginning again.

"I know he would go with us against Masters if the need came," he said, nodding towards the samurai's empty seat, "But I don't want to put him in that position. Now, my heroes – what do you say we do about this?"

"He obviously has some forces behind him." Majeed said. "No one can be in so many places at once."

"Agreed." Wizikute nodded.

"We do not yet have any concrete evidence of Vlad's guilt," Manach observed, "We must first go and confront him about this."

"Tomorrow," Arthur said, "Wizikute and I will find his portal and go talk to him. Manach and Wizikute will stay here and keep things under control. Hopefully, we will soon be rid of this horror."

The five of them looked to the cauldron before the maps. Inside it, Clockwork's vision had been playing again and again. Green smoke drifting up from it took the shape of the vampire ghost's horrible, grinning face.

---

"_So what brings you to these parts, Maddie?"_

_The man and his lady were at his cabin abode in the Rockies. Jack was still in Amity Park, probably bumbling with another invention. The invitation that the Dalv group had sent was for an all-womens' science convention in Florida anyway. A private jet sent out, a ghostly pilot sabotaging the flight at just the right time, and a parachute left on board insured that Maddie would be brought straight to him._

"_You'll never believe it," Maddie sad, looking up from her book, "I was on my way to a Symposium and my pilot forced me out of the plane right over your house!" she turned back to her reading._

"_Dreadful, dreadful." Vlad pondered, expertly concealing the glee in his voice. "Well, that just goes to show – you can't trust anyone. Of course, I learned that from Jack twelve years ago."_

"_Now Vlad," Maddie said sternly, "Jack may be a bumbler, but he means well."_

"_I know, Maddie. And believe it or not, I've grown to forgive him for many things. Causing the accident that ruined my life, _stealing you,_ the backwash incident…"_

"_Whoa, whoa, whoa, back up!" Maddie set her book down. "What was that last one?"_

"_Causing the accident that ruined my life?"_

"_No, no, after that."_

"_The backwash incident?"_

"_No, in the middle!"_

"_Oh, the stealing you part?" inside, a huge grin overcame Vlad. It was time._

"_Oh, Maddie, you always could see right through me! I'm just going to come out and say it! I love you, Maddie. I always have. And I know what Jack is like, and you deserve better. I'll wager he's been forgetting things left and right – even things such as your anniversary. Please, dump Jack and stay here with me. You'll be happy, I promise. What do you say?_

…

_The reception was a simple one, with no one but the bride, groom, and reverend to see it. They were up a mountain with the sunset behind them casting scarlet, golden, and violet hues over the sky and peaks alike. The brilliant romantic backdrop left the trinity of performers in this story silhouetted as vows were silently exchanged. Rings were placed. The reverend pronounced them man and wife. Vlad and Maddie leaned in. And, at long last, their lips met – and Vlad did not awake._

…

"_Vlad, please listen to me. I never meant to…"_

"Silence!_" Vlad barked. He stood on the highest balcony of his Wisconsin castle, looking down upon the orange jump-suited man below. Many months had now passed since Jack had been left alone, and ever since he had sought out Vlad. He had said that, while he was never going to stop loving or missing Maddie, he didn't want to confront Vlad about that. He just wanted to talk about what had happened between them._

"_Vlad, how many times do I have to try and say "sorry!" It was an accident!"_

"_An accident that ruined my life!" Vlad shouted down. "An accident that left me alone for twelve years and cursed with a paranormal infection while you stole the love of my life! And now you have been left alone and without Maddie! Let this be a lesson to you, Jack – what goes around comes around! Now get off my property!"_

"_Vlad, please just let me…"_

"GO_!" there was no arguing with that cry. Defeated, Jack let his shoulder slump and he dragged his feet back towards his car. His back now turned, he did not see the grinning form of Skulker step up behind Vlad._

"_Kill him."_

_The command was given quietly, with a stoic face, proper posture, and not even a turning of the head. With malicious glee, the predator ghost leapt out from behind, dived down, and released from Jack a blood-curdling scream._

…

"Masters? Masters?"

Vlad slowly opened his eyes as the hand shook him awake. This early morning conference of the Dalv board of directors had been about some boring rival company or other, and apparently he had fallen asleep during the presentation. The director on his right had aroused him from his sleep. Vlad cursed him for doing so – it had been such a lovely dream.

"You feeling alright, Masters?" the director asked as some eyes turned to look upon him.

"Oh, I'm fine." Vlad smiled dreamily. "Must have dozed off a bit there."

"You doze off during your own company's meeting on competition?" the director raised an eyebrow.

Vlad merely shrugged.

"You're an odd one, Masters." The director shook his head, stood up, and walked over to the water jug in the corner of the room. As he walked, Vlad let a trail of intangibility extend from his foot and creep towards his. The director fell into the path, stumbled, and fell into the container, knocking it over and going on to hit his head on the wall. As the others enjoyed a laugh at their comrade's expense, Vlad leaned back in his chair and put on a sly grin.

"You have no idea."


	16. Movement Towards Assault

Vlad's lab was filled with activity that afternoon. Having returned from his business meeting and had some more rest, he was now scrutinising an ectoplasmic sample under a microscope, jotting down notes without looking up to see them. Skulker and Technus were hunched over a new weapon, trying to decipher the last flaw in its operating system. The vultures, each with a hammer in their beaks, were taking turns whacking at the last nail to enter into a new desk, and Eel was providing an initial power source to get a new generator up and running.

All the activity came to a halt as the proximity alarm sounded.

A view-screen lowered from the ceiling, and provided an image of what lay just on the other side of the portal doors. Vlad felt his eyebrow arch at the site of King Arthur and Wizikute of the Order standing just outside his gateway, anxious looks on their faces.

"Vat gives with these guys?" one of the vultures inquired. Vlad did not answer.

"Should we prepare for battle?" Skulker asked. Vlad still said nothing. His eyes were fixed on the image of the two members of the Order before him.

'_Unexpected,'_ he thought, _'though perhaps profitable.'_ He had never been paid a visit by any member of the Order except Katou, and the look on these ghosts' faces did not suggest their mission was one under the olive branch. But Vlad had been considering how well his experiments and equipment tests had been going. Nothing seemed to be amiss with them. And practice did little good without experience to go with it.

He now saw a way to get experience with the perfect excuse to prevent the cowardice of his men from getting in the way.

"Drop security," he finally said. "Step into my office, and let them in."

---

"Well, my hero," Arthur sighed, "it appears we have arrived."

He and Wizikute stood before the pentagonal striped door, having stepped through the similarly shaped vortex in The Ghost Zone. They had followed the map drawn for Katou five years ago. Manach and Shao-lin remained at the Order's headquarters, watching over everything. They had armed themselves, just as a precaution.

But one is never fully ready to confront a long-time ally as an enemy.

Arthur prepared to draw his sword and wedge the door open when it slid apart on its own. Though taken by surprise, the two sages moved forward without hesitation. They stepped into a dimly lit laboratory. Bits and scraps of material littered the floor, as though a hasty clean up had just taken place. A hard steel door on the right side of the lab was thrown open. The two stepped towards it, Arthur's boots sending off long, ominous echoes as they hit the dark marble floor.

The two ghosts slowly scanned the room. Cages with glowing bars were turned over on their sides, some with doors ripped off as if a hurried evacuation of the holding pen's contents had recently taken place. The lights above were blood-red and flickering, bathing the room in alternate light and shadow. Surgical tables on rollers were pushed to the side walls, again giving the impression of a rapid departure.

The far wall contained a single open doorway, through which the two could see the shadowed form of Vlad Masters, clad in black and sitting behind a monstrous oak desk.

The two old warriors lifted off the ground together and glided over to rendezvous with their targer. Upon arriving, Arthur knocked on the door frame.

"Ah…hello, Arthur!" Vlad greeted the king enthusiastically as he looked up. "And Wizikute, what a surprise! It's been a while, hasn't it? Well, come in! Come in! Make yourselves at home!"

Arthur and Wizikute stepped inside, though doubt was beginning to enter their minds. There was something in Vlad's tone that confirmed that things here were not right.

"And to what do I owe this unexpected honour?" Vlad asked, leaning back in his chair.

"Vlad," Arthur sighed, "I'm afraid our mission is not as friendly as you seem to think."

"I'm sure you know of the problems The Ghost-Zone has faced," Wizikute said.

"Ah, yes…the disappearances. Quite the tragedy," Vlad seemed unfazed.

"Katou told us that when he came here five years ago, he saw weapons that left marks like the ones being used in The Ghost Zone," the chief continued. "He also said that, when Guyart disappeared, he found your hat in the place where Guyart last was."

Vlad showed his first sign of suspicion – he raised his left eyebrow.

"Did he now?" he cooed.

"Yes," Arthur resumed. "And we would like to know about all that research you did concerning the legends of Pariah."

Vlad stared at the two for a moment. Then, his eyebrow still arched, he put on a fox-like grin.

"Oh well," he sighed dramatically. "I can't say I expected this to come up, but never mind. I have a very simple answer to all your concerns."

"Oh?" the two sages said together.

"Yes indeed," Vlad put his feet up onto his desk and leaned back even further, "and here it is."

Still grinning, he snapped his fingers.

A flurry of activity filled the office as masses of green in all sorts of distorted shapes phased through the floor, walls, and ceiling to fill the room. Vlad's ghost-animal experiments, already mad from whatever hell they had been subjected to, savagely snapped and clawed at the two shocked members of the Order.

Arthur was the first to recover his wits enough to fight back. Drawing Excalibur, he caught a large ghost-bear on its edge just before the beast could get its jaws around the king's head. Wizikute, who had been pulled to the floor by two ghost-wolves, managed to wedge his knife loose and have it meet with the animals. Rising back to his feet, he drew his bow and let arrows fly.

Enclosed they may have been, the two human ghosts managed to provide an even fight. Vicious though they were, the ghost-beasts had little intellect. As talons, claws, teeth and tails lashed out, well-timed strokes from Excalibur and precise arrow fire made many a monster vanish in a cloud of green smoke. As more animals filled the room, the king and the chief continued to fight valiantly, meeting each blow and keeping most of their attackers at bay. After a time, it began to look as though they might yet win the day.

Then Wizikute was enveloped by a strange ghost net, and a jolt of electricity running through the mesh knocked him to the floor.

A large, grinning suit of armour had phased up through the floor. The net was attached to his left arm. He snapped it off, seized it with both hands, and swung full force. Wizikute was lifted out of the fray of animals and tossed against the wall, where even more wind was knocked out of him. The ghost-beasts, suddenly displaying a show of cunning, tightened their circled around Arthur and kept at a constant attack, never allowing him an opening to escape and help his friend. Wizikute, both stunned from the blow and shocked from the surprise of the technology, was in an unfavourable position for retaliation. A strange device opened from the armour's opposite arm. He aimed it at the chief and fired off an electric blast. Smoke began to rise from Wizikute's form as the jolt from the net and the blast mixed, burning away at him and drawing from his throat a terrible yelp. Grinning even more maliciously, the armour drew from his belt a futuristic-looking gun. A large and powerful red beam shot out of it, slamming the ghost of the Order even further against the wall and knocking out the last of his wind. The chief tried nobly to hang on to consciousness, but he felt his vision blur, and he collapsed to the ground in a heap.

The armour now took a stranger device from his belt. It was small and cylindrical, with a lid like a cup and glowing red gadgetry built into it. A label on the side read "Dalv Thermos." The armour pointed it at Wizikute and lifted the lid off. A stream of spiralling blue-white energy leapt out, catching the chief in its grasp and tingeing him the same shade of colour. From behind his wall of monstrous assailants, Arthur could only watch in horror as his fallen comrade was reduced to vapour, pulled into the spinning blast, and sucked into the device, at which point the armour quickly slammed the lid shut.

It took all his years of learning with the Order for Arthur to suppress his anger and channel his desire for vengeance into the task at hand.

Sending green flames along Excalibur, he let a sharp wave of energy fly from the sword, reducing all the ghost-beasts to clouds of green smoke. He phased through the bottom of the floor, and came up suddenly in front of the armour. With a swipe of his blade, he relieved the giant metallic being of both hands, and as the one that held Wizikute's prison fell, the device rolled out of its grip and onto the floor. Kicking the suit back, Arthur made a dive for the cylindrical container, but a black-booted foot kicked him back. Vlad stood over the trap, his samurai sword in his hand and a mocking smirk on his face. He moved into a samurai stance; Arthur adopted a broadsword position. As the rest of the room's inhabitants moved off to the side to let their master have his conflict, the blades met.

Vlad had learned Katou's style of swordplay well. Though Arthur had centuries of experience over him, the half-ghost had a great deal of skill and the advantage of youth. He had also waited until this exact moment to join in the fight, when the British king was tired from other battles, shocked by the armour's technology, and emotionally unstable from the loss of Wizikute. Vlad was fresh and filled with malicious glee from victory over one member of the Order.

Their blades met blow for blow for a time, each parrying the stroke of the other, but with Vlad pressing further with each blow. Arthur managed to catch Vlad at an awkward parry and push him back, gaining more ground for himself.

Then Vlad sent flames running along his blade – not green flames, but a hot, glowing red.

Arthur, repulsed and shocked by the spectacle, did not pull himself together in time to send flames along his own blade.

And with one quick swipe, Vlad destroyed England's greatest sword.

He kicked Arthur back into the corner of his desk and fired a hard red blast from his hand, slamming the king into the edge harder. Reaching out with his sword, he rolled the thermos towards himself and kicked it up into his other hand. He popped the lid off and pointed it at his target.

Arthur had no time to escape. He merely shut his eyes and readied himself to be taken.

---

Vlad snapped the lid shut once Arthur was sucked up into the thermos. The design for this trap had been one that Jack and Maddie had collaborated on and Vlad had committed to memory. A few improvements and the use of his own power as an initial energy source had made it the ideal containment device.

Vlad now drew from his pocket a special lock that would permanently seal this particular thermos. Neither ghost nor man – including himself – could lift this lock. Smashing the thermos would be the only way to release Arthur and Wizikute – and too much damage would destroy them along with their prison.

"Gather your arms, Skulker," Vlad said dryly as he snapped the lid on. "The rest of you, gather the others who didn't come. We have a job to do."

"And vat vould that be?" the vulture with a straight beak asked.

"Let's consider what has happened here. We just eliminated two members of the founding council of the Order of Afterlife, one of the most powerful bodies in The Ghost-Zone. They surely will have told the others where they were going. When they don't come back, who do you suppose will get the blame?"

"Uh…vell…" no one could argue with him. They were in a tricky situation.

"Would you rather deal with them then, when we won't know when they're coming and when they're prepared for conflict with us, or would you rather go and remove the problem permanently now, when we're prepared and they not only don't expect us, but don't have the ability to face our advanced technology?"

"But the weapons…" Skulker began as he reassembled his arms.

"Have been doing quite well in tests, and seem good enough to carry out our needs," Vlad said simply. "Now go and gather everyone. We have a job to do."

There was no room for argument. Skulker and the animals phased out of the room to round up the rest of their army.

Vlad smiled to himself. This new plan was going perfectly. He would soon have killed two birds with one stone. With the threat of a counter-attack looming over them, his army had little choice but to go forth and gain experience for themselves and for the technology. And the Order would finally be out of his way.

He chuckled at the thought as he sheathed his sword, went ghost, and put on his overcoat and fedora.


	17. The Order's Fall

A rare emotion had overcome the sanctuary of the Order – panic.

The northern wall where the gate entrance was built had been completely disintegrated. A great, green blast had consumed it, and now all that remained of the large doors was a billowing cloud of black smoke, scattered bits of wood and masonry, and a great deal of ash, with fires from the remains spreading throughout the courtyard and towards the inner buildings

Then began the real mayhem.

Once the gate had come down, the sanctuary had been flooded with all kinds of ghosts. There were ghost-wolves and ghost-falcons; there were snakes, bears, cougars, eels, and elk; there were moose, badgers, beavers, foxes, rodents, rabbits, ecto-pusses, vultures, and giant squids; and there were hideous mutations of each kind of creature. They were vicious, savage, and completely demented, lashing out at any member of the Order who dared to make a move. They were fast, powerful, and completely random in their attacks, leaving little time for anyone to defend themselves.

Behind the animals and mutants were human ghosts. Many were faceless, merely having a humanoid form. Shadow ghosts and transformers, with their advantage of surprise, began laying waste. One cackling ghost with insane snow-white hair, shouting his intentions all the while, targeted the remaining walls, while a gigantic suit of armour with flaming green hair came at all near him with all the ferocity of a predator out for the kill.

Last to enter, clad in a black trench coat and a smoky-grey fedora with a rose pinned on it, was a figure who many in the Order knew from his frequent visits to collect information on The Ghost King. It was the half-ghost Vlad Masters, Katou's apprentice.

Surprise and savage fury were not all that the invaders had in their favour. The armour had built into himself any number of odd and macabre futuristic devices that fired of blasts, beams, nets, and traps, all at a technological level unfathomable by many in the Order. The shouting ghost with the insane hair had with him a metallic staff that let off blasts of electricity. The human ghosts, even the shadows and the transformers, were armed with what appeared to be guns - except that they too were futuristic in design and let loose lasers. Some of the flying animal ghosts even had bombs gripped in their feet strange that they dropped upon the Order. The marks left by these blasts were all too familiar for the warriors of the ancient government – they had been trying in vain to find who was responsible for their presence in The Ghost Zone for five years. And no defence that anyone raised seemed to be able to repel these mechanical nightmares.

Despite the unfortunate turn of events, the Order still fought back. As the youngest were hidden away, youthful apprentices rushed forward to prove themselves, while seasoned fighters made for their weapons and met the coming force. Shao-lin and Manach were alerted to the presence of the intruders. The two founding members ran out and at once proved their skill. Shao-lin drew his duel swords and began to meet every enemy that came near him with a blade, while Manach used a cunning number of manoeuvres and circular energy blasts to take out opposing forces. As more and more of the Order became alerted to the presence of the intruders, more sages and warriors rushed out to defend their home. And three messengers were sent out – one to the search party trying to discover more about Clockwork's prophecy, one to the search party searching for the culprits of the five-year disappearances, and one to Katou.

Unfortunately, the invaders seemed to have expected this.

Waiting just outside the walls were large numbers of ghosts who had not rushed into the sanctuary. They could not be seen by the messengers – they had gone invisible. They stayed unseen, waiting for the messengers to get going in their respective directions. Then, they divided up into groups and followed. Two groups were large – the third was made up of two particularly savage grizzly bear mutants, which Vlad had personally instructed to follow the messenger heading in a specific direction. That direction led to Katou's cave.

The messenger sent to the party investigating the disappearances had barely landed at camp when the ghosts trailing him became visible, flooding the grounds and tearing at everything in sight. The members of the search party, travel-weary and in an even less favourable position than their brothers at the sanctuary, did not get a chance to re-group. The situation at the other camp was worse. They were smaller in number and had fewer veterans among them. For both parties, those that were not taken in strange cylindrical devices reading "Dalv Thermos" became fodder for the animals.

---

Katou was in silent meditation with a clear head when the sounds outside his cave met his ears. A human moan was quickly silenced with some snapping and tearing sounds and two powerful growls. The samurai quickly went invisible and floated to the ceiling.

Two mutant ghost-bears, huge and wild, came charging into his cave, their eyes darting about as they searched for their quarry. When they didn't find him, they displayed the limit to their intellect by roaring and stomping rather than searching the cave more closely. Katou dived down, sword ready, and reduced the behemoths to trails of smoke. He then quickly made a dash for his cauldron, converting into ghost-vapour and diving in. He feared the worst had come to pass.

As his mirage emerged in the cauldron at the Order's Chinese palace, allowing him to see out towards the courtyard, he saw that indeed it had.

The Order was being overrun by Vlad, his henchmen, and their experiments and weapons.

The samurai flew out of the cauldron quickly. He ran to the mouth of his cave and leapt off into the empty space of The Ghost Zone, flying off as fast as he could towards the sanctuary.

He prayed he would not arrive too late.

---

The Order's predicament had taken a turn for the worst. While their fight was valiant – the finest warriors in sword, ghost-powers, bow and arrow, and crossbow were out in the fray – all fell easily to a Dalv Thermos's tractor beam or the fire of a ghost-laser. The invaders had their casualties too – many animals, mutants, shadows and transformers had fallen – but the losses of the opposition were minuscule compared to what the Order had suffered. Those who were fortunate enough to evade all the weapons soon began to grow exhausted from constant battle and were left for the animals. No reinforcements came from the messengers who were sent. Some feared that the return call would not reach them in time – others had guessed at the truth.

As the resistance began to fall, the invaders pressed further into the sanctuary, searching the buildings inside the walls for any whom may have remained. No one was spared their wrath. No remorse was given. The youngest who had been hidden were sucked into traps or left to defend themselves from the beasts just as their masters were. Once all who remained within a structure were captured or otherwise dealt with, it was left to be consumed by the fires that had begun raging throughout the compound.

Vlad walked calmly through the carnage, grinning as he saw one of his great hindrances fall to pieces. He left the fighting to his minions mostly, but every now and again he would stop to face an especially resilient fighter. He ended their existence either by a ghost-gun he kept inside his trench coat or by means of the samurai blade he had been given by Katou.

Those that remained of the Order's defence were steadily pushed back towards the Chinese palace in the centre, where Shao-lin and Manach still fought on. Even in the face of defeat and destruction, the two founding members were determined not to give in. A tight circle formed around them, with the invaders slowly picking off the last warriors. The last knight fell. The remaining samurai were taken in a thermos. Animals seized the Mayan warrior and the African chief. Soon Shao-lin and Manach were the only ones left. Both were exhausted but fought on, Shao-lin's swords flying like eagles and Manach continuing to display a clever array of circular attacks, the two of them back-to-back in the centre of an inescapable circle of assailants.

But a large blast of red ectoplasm sent both crashing into the walls of the palace behind them.

The circle of savagery parted to let its leader inside. Vlad had a smug grin on his face. His outstretched black gloved hand had a trail of red smoke drifting from it, and in his other hand he held his blade. He seemed to shoot fire from his eyes, as if daring the last of the Order to come and oppose him. Shao-lin shot the fire right back. If he were to be destroyed, he told himself, he would be destroyed with honour. He would be destroyed fighting.

His swords raised, he flew forward, a mad yell releasing from his throat. Vlad sent red flames along his blade, destroyed those of the Chinese warrior, and brought his sword down upon him. He caught the blast Manach had just fired in his free hand and fired it back, knocking the monk out and to the ground. He then brought his sword down on him.

As his army continued their demolition of the sanctuary around him, Vlad flew up and entered the chamber of the Chinese palace where, many years ago, he had listened to the founding council explain the history of the Order, the Family, and Walker to him. The seven cushions, the cauldron, and the three maps were all there. The maps, however, were now heavily marked with the multitude of places in which Vlad had caused the unsolved disappearances.

Vlad centred his gaze on the map that showed the territory of the Order. With one swipe of his sword, he took it from the wall and let it fall into the cauldron, where it dissolved. He let his grin become manic and his eyes flash red as he watched.

Now he only had two dragons left to slay.


	18. All Eyes on Masters

"There – look at that!" Tony screamed as he slammed the evening's edition of _The Ghost-Zone Times_ down on Luchesi's desk.

It had been a hectic night in The Ghost Zone. News that the Order of Afterlife had been completely wiped from existence by the same menace that been lurking in the shadows for five years had spread like wildfire. Walker, though he had never allied himself with the Order and had in fact opposed them, called out every available unit he had, from SWAT teams to riot police to the ghosts of Cossacks and torturers of the Middle Ages. The Order's former territory split and fell into panic as the underworld that the Order had kept at bay sprung up and competed amongst itself for power. The entire Ghost Zone seemed consumed with fear.

A mass demand had gone out for weapons and protection, and the Family was quick to capitalise on the situation. Hundreds of goons had been loaned out as bodyguards and security in exchange for exuberant sums or special favours. For shelter, ghosts were allowed to hide out in buildings and businesses owned by the Family – after they had paid, of course. Ghost-guns were being bought up by the thousands, and any loose real-world item that could work as a weapon was quick to go out of stock.

For Tony, however, profiteering the last thing to worry about. Forcing this meeting upon Luchesi and the other advisors, he had already read the newspaper allowed and was waiting for a reaction. He had gotten stunned looks from his fellows and a raised eyebrow from Luchesi.

Luchesi calmly picked up the paper. In big, bold text was the headline "ORDER OF AFTERLIFE DESTROYED – FORCES BEHIND DISAPPERANCES RECEIVE BLAME!" He scanned the article quickly, lifting a magnifying glass up to help his weak eyes read the fine print.

"Yes," he sighed after a few minutes, setting the glass and paper down. "Yes."

"'Yes' what?" Tony hissed. "Maybe old Tony isn't so crazy now! Maybe it is _you_ who worries _too little_!"

"Watch it, Tony," Luchesi looked him sharply in the eye. "I will concede to you on this – Vlad has become too dangerous. If he can do them in, he can do us in, and I am not in a hurry to be done in. We will act."

"How?" Tony asked excitedly. "It couldn't be hard to find his portal. We can send out some men and –"

"Tony, Tony," Luchesi made a motion with his hand as if asking his man to calm down. "You know me by now. I am not a heartless man. This boy is a traitor, but he once did us good. He once saved your life. I will not look past this. We will leave him to Walker."

"Walker?" Tony screeched in a ghostly tone that cracked the glass of the office windows. "Are you mad? He knows too much to be kept alive! Where we are, where many of our key businesses and markets lie, where…"

"Markets have changed. And I have been feeling that it is time to move. Walker does not know Vlad is with us. Vlad may sell us out, yes, but by the time Walker acts, we will be gone."

"So how do you plan on getting rid of him?"

"There is our company, Central Supply. A front for selling real-world items. I will send him there to clean the place out and leave Walker with an anonymous tip. We will have him out of the way and be safe."

"How do you know he won't get away before Walker can get his hands on him?"

"Because you, Tony, will take some men and make sure he stays there."

"Me?" this was more than the nervous ghost had bargained for. He had no desire to deal with that monster personally.

Luchesi put on a smirk to show he knew this.

"You've worked for this moment, Tony. It's your business."

---

Common knowledge among samurai was that the code of _bushido_ allowed no outward signs of emotion. Joy, anger, sadness, and reflection were to be held within. No groaning or crying was allowed in the face of tragedy. Death and loss were to be looked upon by a true warrior and taken in with stoicism.

But Katou could not prevent his eyes from letting a single tear roll down his cheek.

The once beautiful sanctuary was a ruin. Consumed by fire, the walls, temple, palaces, castle, and library now were nothing but blackened support beams and heaps of charred rock and ash. Scorch marks and holes from blasts littered the ground and what little remained of the buildings. Fallen swords, crossbows, arrows, clubs, and knives lay scattered everywhere. Not a sign of life appeared throughout the place. It was a dead and bleak as a graveyard.

Katou swallowed his sorrow and floated over towards the remains of the Chinese palace. Though he had not visited the camps of the search parties, his heart told him what had become of them. He was the last of the Order. He knew who had done this. He threw his personal hurt aside to avoid vengeance. It was his duty as part of the Order to stop Vlad Masters before he could harm another.

Throwing some collapsed boards out of the way, he found that the Order's cauldron still remained intact. The samurai had told Vlad long ago that if he ever wanted to find him, he needed only to submerge the stone at the bottom of his sword's handle into this cauldron or the one in Katou's cave. It worked the same for the sage's blade. He drew the weapon and lowered it into the green liquid of the cauldron. The surface rippled for a moment, and slowly, a transparent image seemed to project onto the liquid from the bottom of the pot.

Vlad stood in a dark office. He was in full dress, with hat, gloves, and overcoat. A sly grin was plastered over his face, as though he had just done something to please himself. Across from him was a figure seated at a desk. Vito Luchesi.

"Central Supply," the don was saying. "Front company. I'm a bit nervous about it. I want you to clean it out."

"I trust there will be a reward for my services?" Vlad inquired, arching his eyebrow.

"You will be paid."

"Then I would be happy to handle the situation."

Katou lifted his sword from the cauldron and placed it in its sheath. Raw determination poured from his eyes as he raised his hood over his head.

Central Supply was not far from the sanctuary ruins. And he knew Vlad well. He knew what to expect.

Slowly rising from the ground, Katou suddenly gathered speed and took off towards where Vlad would soon be.


	19. Demon's Head

In another of The Ghost Zone's many oddities, Central Supply was one of two buildings that remained on a chunk of land that seemed to have been ripped out of New York City during the Roaring '20s. Standing alongside it was a grand old movie theatre. The buildings were conjoined like townhouses, and shared some space between them. This space held the controls for the central generator that powered both buildings, the corridor that led to the generator, and the generator itself – a seemingly bottomless pit filled with raw and unstable red ectoplasm. That pit, as well as all the power and light within both buildings, lay dormant for the night.

In the basement of Central Supply, Vlad calmly stood in the far-left corner of the room, adjusting the collar on his overcoat or shining his flashlight about as he oversaw the completion of the job at hand. The three ghost-vultures and the ecto-pusses were systematically going through filing cabinets, bookshelves, and binders, removing any files that had any connection to the fact that this antique shop was a front for the Order's business, while Skulker melted the lock off of a safe door, which held the most essential records.

Vlad felt no obligation to carry out this menial little task. He felt no obligation to the Family at all now, actually. The test with the Order had gone perfectly. His men and equipment were ready, and when given the proper motivation, they would fight without cowardice. The Family had the same plague as the Order – they never suspected him enough, and they had refused to advance technologically, leaving them at his mercy. He could overthrow them at any time.

But, as long as Luchesi was so naïve and there was a profit to be made, one last job couldn't hurt him.

"Are you about done there, Skulker?" he inquired casually.

"Almost…" was the reply, followed by a metallic thump. "I'm through." Skulker pulled the door open and looked inside.

The safe was empty.

"Uh…aren't there supposed to be papers in there?" quipped one of the vultures.

"What is the meaning of…" Vlad began, when the answer hit him like a ton of bricks.

Tony's suspicions, the noise made about his fun at the sanctuary, the timing of this job, the absent files…

Perhaps he should have given the Family more credit.

"We've been had," he snarled under his breath.

"You mean ve're sold out?" the vulture gulped.

"Oh, this is nice!" the vulture with the glasses moaned. "And I had tomorrow's game of Craps at the lodge in the bag, too!"

"Enough," Vlad hissed. "Skulker, I don't suppose you could find us a way out of here that won't involve walking out the front door?"

"The theatre has a rooftop exit," Skulker opened up a panel of his shoulder, projecting a ground plan of the two buildings on the wall. "If we reach the control room for the generator, we can open the doors to the long corridor. At the end of the corridor, just before the generator, there is a ladder that leads up to a catwalk. There are four catwalks, each leading up to a higher level. The last one ends at a ladder leading up to the rooftop exit of the theatre.

"Be ready," Skulker said, popping a laser up from his wrist. "My sensors indicate that we are not alone."

The entourage of seven silently crept upstairs. Vlad had doused his flashlight, and instead the ghosts had let their eyes glow, following the dim trails of light as they crept towards the catwalks. From the basement door they needed to cover but a few steps before they arrived in the control room. They seemed to be alone.

"Cross down the long corridor up to the catwalks, and we'll be in the clear," Vlad grinned.

"_Spiacente_, Masters," a voice crowed. "But Luchesi would like it very much if you would stay." Vlad whirled about. Out from the shadows came a pair of sickly glowing yellow eyes, followed by at least ten pairs of hot green ovals. Tony stood, shrouded in a black trench coat with the collar pulled high and a black bowler pulled down low over his face. His ten lackeys were dressed similarly, and each had a ghost-gun drawn. Tony's hands were shaky, but his eyes demonstrated courage rarely seen within him.

Vlad arched his eyebrow. So, Tony actually had some wits about him!

Some; but not enough.

Vlad heaved a dramatic sigh and began to raise his hands, as if to surrender. Then, in a flash, hot red poured from his eyes, and Tony was sent crashing down to the floor. Skulker leapt over to the control panel and had the lights on in an instant. The vultures and ecto-pusses both moved to catch the weapons that popped up from Skulker's armour, and he himself readied his laser and ten other firearms. Vlad drew his own ecto-laser from the inside of his coat. But before any exchange could begin, the sound of the doors leading to the corridor parting diverted all attention.

Before them was a cloaked figure, a hood pulled down over his face and his head bent low. Under his cloak he wore plain brown robes. Slowly he raised up his head, bringing his face into light. Vlad felt a heart skip a beat as he gazed at that familiar sad bearded face.

No…it couldn't be…

"_You_," Vlad snarled, his mouth curling like an angry cat's. Signalling his men to stay out of this, he raised his weapon and aimed for Katou's heart.

"Is this how you took down everyone else in the Order?" Katou asked dryly, making no move to defend himself. "At gunpoint? You couldn't really defeat them, could you?" his final words conveyed just a trace of anger.

Vlad froze up, a terrible grimace on his face. Though his mind justified the way he had removed himself of the Order by any means it could grasp, his heart was not so easily immune to the samurai's accusation. But both refused to believe that they could not defeat a member of the Order. Vlad had broken King Arthur! And how sweet it would be to silence that sermon-spewing mouth once and for all using Katou's own method of swordplay.

Vlad let his ecto-laser slip out of his hand. His sword materialised in his right hand's grasp. He raised the blade up and sent yellow-green flames running along the length of it.

Katou sighed, as if breathing out his last hope that Vlad might lose twelve years of hate. He then drew his own sword and set it aflame. The two moved out into an on-guard stance, locking their eye lines together.

Vlad swung the first blow, and Katou neatly parried it. The flames faded, but steel continued to clash.

The duel had begun.

Their moves were precise and calculated, and their tempo was slow. They went back and forth as if in a slow waltz, exchanging thrust for parry and cut for block. The rest of the room's inhabitants watched in awe and confusion as the half-ghost and the samurai fought, slowly pressing down towards the corridor. In several retreats and a counter-attack, they had arrived, and the doors slammed shut behind them.

Their dance relaxed for a moment as Vlad turned towards the shut entrance. The sounds of gunfire, lasers, and the squawking of his vultures penetrated through the heavy metal that composed the doors. Free of distraction, Vlad's minions and those of the Family had started their battle.

Vlad and Katou were left alone in a long hall of blackened steel, its frames arched up high as though in a sad attempt to mimic the grandeur of a Gothic cathedral's chapel.

And now that they were awarded more space and no audience, there was no need to hold back.

Vlad threw himself forward with all speed, flipping in the air and bringing his blade down with the strongest blow he could muster. Katou came up with an equally powerful parry, and their waltz resumed, adopting a much faster and far more deadly tempo. They pressed each other up and down the corridor, each having his own turn to lead on the offensive. Their fighting styles mirrored perfectly, and both combatants reached far down into their bag of tricks as they kept feeding the aggression of their private war.

---

In the control room, Tony's flunkies and Vlad's ghosts had retreated to opposite sides of the room. Both camps had upended tables and cabinets as fast as they could and had dived under desks and opened doors to use as shields, everyone trying to take cover from the attacks of the opposing sides. From behind the bookcase he used as protection, Skulker analysed the situation. Technologically, his side was superior. Lasers, traps, ecto-nets and electro-blasters were their armaments, all of them designed and built by himself, Technus, or Vlad. They should have had the edge. Yet Tony had safety and numbers – and his flunkies, being members of the Family, had real experience in shootouts. The mobster himself had gone under a desk, peeking his head up and firing random shots at the odd moment. One of his rounds clipped Skulker's shoulder pad.

"You fools think you can shoot down me?" he roared. "Skulker? Ghost-World's greatest predator?" a missile-launcher opened on his right shoulder, and he prepared to fire. Unfortunately, just as the missiles began to leave their holes, one blast from an ecto-gun knocked the launcher to the side, and the projectile struck one of the vultures, who had been hovering over the control panel and came crashing down upon it.

By a twist of fate, one of the buttons that was activated by the fall started up the red ectoplasmic generator at the end of the corridor.

---

Katou was in rare form that night. Cloak billowing dramatically about as he moved with the grace of a dancer, he yielded his sword with the precision of a marksman with his rifle, the flair of a conductor with his baton and the detail of a painter with his brush. He was the very definition of "samurai." As Vlad's master he knew where all of Vlad's strategies and tactics stemmed from, and had developed all the necessary defences. His tired old eyes were never more deceiving, as no lion nor tiger nor any other beast could have equalled his ferocity in this battle. Yet he maintained at all times his honour and the rules of fair play that he had made for his style of swordsmanship. Thousands of years' worth of training and combat could have been meant to prepare for this one moment in time, as he seemed to be drawing on every experience he had ever had. Now more than any other time in his life – or after-life – as a samurai, he was perfectly in tune with _bushido_ and at home with his duty.

In his fine-tailored suit and 30s' hat and coat, Vlad appeared at first glance to be almost comically out of place yielding a sword and duelling in this manner. Yet his form was just as flawless of that of the old sage he warred against. Vlad had struggled with swordplay in his early teachings, but he had learned well since. Though Katou had a perfect defence, Vlad's offence was just as flawless, and whenever he lost the initiative he could muster up parries and blocks as well as the samurai. He could see that, finally, Katou was no longer holding back, and he relished the sensation that such knowledge brought and pumped it out into his fight. The half-ghost was also not holding back any. He obeyed neither rules of right of way nor any code of honour. Hate was his drive, and it governed nothing but the lust for victory. Once and for all, Vlad wanted to silence that infernal nuisance, that lecturing ninny, the one surviving of the Order who was more a threat to his plans than any of the others.

As with his fight with Guyart so many years ago, this was one battle he could not afford to lose.

The dance of death continued to intensify. The constant clang of ecto-steel blades kept the rhythm while the sage and the shadow performed the steps. Flames came and went from the swords as the two tried to break the others' weapon or catch them in a wave of fire. Martial arts and ghost powers came into the battle as well. Katou landed a sharp kick right in Vlad's jaw, sending his hat flying. Vlad blasted Katou, knocking the hood of his cloak down. Both suffered their close calls. Vlad made a vicious stab that barely avoided Katou's leg, instead piercing his cloak, while Vlad jumped back just in time for a cut to take its toll only on the belt of his coat. Each used his unique powers to their advantage, Vlad going human at the most opportune moments and Katou employing the few tricks of the samurai he hadn't passed on to Vlad. The last trace of their once peaceful relationship as master and apprentice gone, the two men had opened their full fighting capacity to each other for the first time.

There reached a point where the two made an unconscious agreement to pause for a moment. Coat and cloak both had disrupted their fighting. Vlad's coat, now opened without its belt, had been tripping him, and Katou's torn cloak had entangled his right leg. Vlad shed his coat, suit jacket, and tie, and rolled up the sleeves to his shirt. Katou tossed aside his heavy cloak and robes. Vlad had made a move to strike before Katou was ready, but the samurai, anticipating his foul play, raised an ecto-dome around himself until he was ready. Once he had shed his robes and recovered his sword, he lowered the shield, and let Vlad make the first strike.

Impossible as it may have seemed the duel continued to increase in speed and ferocity, now that the participants were freed from excess clothing. Flames now remained on the blades, and close calls now included singing of shirts and the ends of hair being caught in the fire. The poor hallway in which they fought suffered terribly, with its floor and walls becoming heavily scarred with ecto-blasts, sword scars, and burn marks. Vlad began blasting away at all lighting, hoping to blind the old warrior, but as both were ghosts, the dark hindered them little.

But the sparks from the destroyed lights and the flames left from the swords had mixed to begin spreading blaze throughout the corridor. The doors at both ends were flameproof, but the floor and walls within were not. Already the way back to the control panel had been cut off.

There was but one way to go – towards the catwalks and the generator.

---

Luchesi sat patiently at his desk, reading the story of Perseus as he waited for a phone call. It was a cold night, even indoors, so he had his coat and cape both draped over his shoulders as he read. Within moments, his old-fashioned rotary phone began ringing, and he calmly picked it up.

"Hello?" he said politely.

"DID YOU CALL WALKER YET OR NOT?" Tony's shrill voice screeched at the other end of the line. In the background Luchesi could hear the sounds of ecto-guns and lasers, the squawking of birds, and some isolated yells.

"Is Vlad held there?" Luchesi asked.

"Katou survived and he's trapped fighting him! CALL WALKER!"

"Very good. Keep them there," Luchesi set the phone down and picked it up again. He turned the phone to "66613 – " Walker's emergency hotline.

"GZPD," Walker himself had answered. "Speak to me."

"Yes," Luchesi said in a flawless American accent. "I'd like to leave an anonymous tip. Something's going on at Central Supply…"

---

Flames flew wildly over the corridor, grabbing onto anything and everything that could feed them and let them grow. From the ever-growing blaze heat poured over all the surrounding space, pumping the air with dry and searing currents. The fire and heat licked at Vlad and Katou, sending both into a raging sweat as their war led their minds into the depths of Hell.

The two had reached the height of violence. Vlad's hair had come loose from its ponytail, and his shirt had become blackened and shredded. Katou's tunic had been just as hurt by heat and blade, and a patch of green ecto-blood now stained his left shoulder from a cut. His former apprentice had increased his foul play. As Katou recovered from a failed strike, Vlad seized the back of the sage's head and thrust it into the ghost-fire around them.

The samurai could not help but moan as his face roasted.

He knocked Vlad back with a shock wave and moved to douse the flames with his powers. Still moaning, he slowly pulled his hand from his head. In the reflection of his steel sword he could see that his left eyebrow was gone and that the left side of his face was darkened. When he tried to open his left eye, he found that the ecto-skin of his eyelid had merged with that surrounding his eye. He cared little save for the pain, and in any case he had no time to worry about his features. With his one working eye, he saw the reflection also catch Vlad flying up from behind, sword ready.

Katou whirled about, and his blow stuck both his and Vlad's blades into the floor about them. With a kick he knocked the half-ghost against the wall and moved ahead, a punch ready. Vlad caught it and moved with a punch of his own, which was also blocked. The two were locked together for a moment, neither able to gain ground over the other.

"So, you've let an accident and a women come to this, have you?" Katou spat, unable to choke back his anger any longer. "And you think it's all been worthwhile, do you?" He could see the younger man's face's burning with hatred. Rearing his head back, Vlad slammed his skull into Katou's knocking the samurai to the ground. Vlad made a dash for his sword and pulled it out in a flash, ready to strike. Katou just rolled aside in time and drew his own blade.

And then…Katou let loose.

He forgot it all.

He tossed aside all that he knew about Vlad Masters. What he had gone through, where he had come from, what he had done in the past. He know longer knew the man that Vlad had once been.

He knew only what he had become.

He threw the hand that held his sword forward, and it met with Vlad's face. He repeatedly hit his old apprentice there, pushing him back down the corridor towards the generator doors. After fifteen hits he pulled black and fired off a blast with his eyes. It hit square in the chest, bending Vlad over so that his chin was in a perfect place to be kicked. As the half-ghost was knocked up from that blow, with his left hand Katou formed a powerful energy blast and thrust it out full-force. Vlad came skidding to a halt along the floor just a few feet from the doors to the generator.

Katou moved forward slowly at first, then began to run. He sent flames along his sword as he raised it over his head. Tears ran down the right side of his face as he began to remember who this monster used to be, but he did not deviate from his course. He was going to end this tonight. He jumped up, sword ready to meet with its target.

Hot red energy shot like daggers from Vlad's eyes and smacked the samurai into the bottom of the first catwalk, then crashing to the floor.

As Katou pulled himself up from his fall, he saw Vlad float back onto his feet, a horrible sneer riding his face. His eyes were glowing blood red and hot crimson fire had engulfed his sword.

The last ace had been pulled from the traitor's sleeve – and Katou had no tricks left to counter.

"Surprised?" Vlad shot out mockingly.

"Not at all," Katou coughed, and it was true. He picked up his sword and prepared to strike. Even with this trump card of Vlad's, he still had his skills. But before he could move to thrust, Vlad brought up a cut from down low, with flames still on his sword.

The samurai screamed as a thin, long cut ran up the right side of his face over his eye.

Not content to stop there, Vlad fired a pink blast right into his enemy's stomach, throwing him back. Katou barely recovered in time to jump over a sharp wave let off from the half-ghost's blade, and even then he was caught with a trick blow to the face. It took only two more exchanges to convince Katou that now was not the best time to press an attack.

His vision was restricted by green ecto-blood around his one good eye, and his retreat steps backward were limited by the flames. There was no way to move down the corridor.

But moving up was still accessible.

With a wave of his sword, Katou sent out the largest wave of energy his strength could permit. Vlad, forced to pull a red barrier over himself, let Katou out of his site – and the sage used that time to fly up to the highest catwalk and move into the darkest shadow he could find. He slumped down against the wall, holding his hand over his good eye as he contemplated his next step.

He would not retreat – it was shameful for a samurai.

He would recover, he would wait, and he would attack.

Unfortunately, he knew that Vlad understood that mindset only too well, and could count on it when he made his move.

---

Skulker grinned as he trapped one of Tony's lackeys in a ghost net. He was the fifth to be taken. Tony and his five remaining guards were now equal in number to their opponents. This assured Skulker victory, for as predicted, his technology was far superior to the mob's ancient pistols. True; the free ones were still armed, and he was still ducking behind a cabinet door as needed.

But at this point, the continued fighting was nothing but sport. Tony and one guard were cornered by the ecto-pusses, which were armed with lasers, and the other Mafia goons were on the floor behind anything they could find.

"Ha!" Skulker laughed. "My prey ceases to amuse me. Vultures!" he turned to the three birds, cowering under a table. "Take them!" he pointed towards Tony.

"Hey!" one of the birds quipped. "Since ven do you call the shots?"

"Since when has Vlad told me I couldn't broil you into my evening meal?" the predator retorted.

That did the trick.

"Get 'em, boys!" the vultures leapt from under the table, their talons ready to strike at the mobsters. But before they could strike, the sound of sirens pierced through the walls from outside. There were at least five sounds – all of them coming closer. The ecto-pusses flew back in terror, dropping their weapons and hiding behind Skulker, while the vultures returned to their table.

"What is this?" the hunter roared, looking about as if for an answer. He soon received it. Tony, encouraged by the sirens, made a mad dive for one of the discarded lasers and aimed it up at Skulker, shooting off the weapon and taking out the predator's right hand.

"Don't move," Tony hissed in a murderous voice that surprised even him.

---

Vlad took his sweet time in searching the catwalks, hovering above ground as he looked for Katou. He felt no need to be on his guard. The fool wouldn't dare attack him from behind or land a cheap surprise blow. That was for ninja, not samurai. Katou could jump out and shock Vlad, but he knew the old man would wait until Vlad saw him before he struck. Even in his anger before Vlad had pulled out his last ace, Katou had let him get at least some wind back.

The brainless man's own code of honour would be his undoing.

A twisted grin smeared across his face, Vlad used the bloody flames along his sword as a torch, as the fire below had not yet penetrated the upper levels of darkness in this place. He sniffed as though trying to pick up the samurai's scent. He searched and waited, making his way up to the fourth, highest catwalk.

A gleam of steel caught his eye. Katou stepped out into the light. He looked worse than Vlad had ever seen him. The cut across his good eye had ceased bleeding, but he was likely to have a scar there forever. If he had a forever, Vlad thought to himself. Katou's left eye would never again open, and his right eye was bloodshot, tired, and saddened. He could no longer stand fully upright. His tunic was soaked in sweat and ecto-blood, and all his clothes were badly torn. He had been reduced to a sad, pitiful mess, determined to fight on in spite of almost certain defeat.

It made Vlad smile even more.

Katou made a motion as if to raise his sword, but Vlad was prepared at once. With a blast of crimson to the face he sent the crippled samurai crashing downward onto the third catwalk below them. Like a huge jungle cat the half-ghost leapt down after him, wasting no time in kicking him down another level. Another blast to the face with eye beams and Katou was on the corridor floor, mere feet away from the continuing hellfire.

Vlad floated down right in front of the old man's face, bringing his boot under Katou's chin. He sent a red charge down to his toes. With a swing of his foot he had Katou flying right towards the doors to the generator. They parted, letting him fall well into the room. Vlad followed.

The generator was a large, circular chamber, with only one door – the one Vlad had just made Katou use. The floor they were on took up the left three-fourths of the room. A few pipes jutted up from the floors and went into the walls. The pit of the generator itself absorbed the remaining fourth of the space. Seemingly without end, it was filled to the brim with spinning, glowing, and highly unstable red ectoplasm. Only a four-foot railing divided the edge of the floor from the fall.

Vlad paid it no mind as he marched towards his prey. How much delight he had gained from breaking this sermon-uttering _bushido_ twit he would never be able to describe. He couldn't suppress a chuckle as he watched his old enemy claw for the sword he had dropped just a few feet away. With a most intentional display of calm and cockiness, Vlad picked up the samurai blade and threw it hard into the wall left of them. He then brought his foot down quite hard on Katou's chest.

"Oh, come now, Katou," he sighed dramatically. "Must I crush you under my boot before you realise that you've lost? You really never had a chance! I know this must be hard for you to hear, but it is the truth. After all, you took me in, taught me almost everything you knew, introduced me to the Order, the Family, and the history of The Ghost-Zone, and sent me on the mission where I first met the Family. You gave me all the tools I needed to get started. Then I met up with my minions, got my technology going, began all my experiments…and you knew. You've known for five years! But you didn't tell the Order! You couldn't betray your old apprentice, could you? And look what's come of it! You're the last of the Order! The Family won't be around much longer either! All of you were and are still trapped in the past, vulnerable to the ways of the 20th century. It was only a matter of time before something like this happened. Fortunately for me, I acted first. And now I'm free to exact justice on Jack and pursue my other goals without interference, all thanks to you!"

Vlad paused to glare down into the old man's face. Every line and wrinkle seemed to etch into his soul. The samurai was shaking under Vlad's foot. His eye was glistening, his mouth was drawn up like a dog raising his hackles, and his expression was at once hurt and enraged. He had long since passed the point where he could contain his emotions within. He couldn't even make an effort to remain internal any longer. His loss of control had lost him his honour. There was only one way for a samurai to re-gain it.

Vlad was not about to let him have the chance.

"What, no response? No 'just and noble' preaching from the 'wise old master?' Tell me, Katou, how does it feel to know you caused all this?" Vlad paused, relishing Katou's increasingly poignant agitation.

"Ah, well," he chuckled, sending hot red flames along his sword. "Whatever that may feel like, at least you won't feel it for long."

He raised his katana well over his head, poised for the kill.

But just as the blade began its plunge, he felt a sweaty hand grab at his foot and send an ecto-shock through his body, causing him to drop his blade.

Katou shoved Vlad off and rose to his feet, forcing himself upright. His hand already had an ecto-blast charged up, and he thrust it out. Vlad just caught it, absorbed it, and fired it back, but Katou mirrored the action and introduced a second blast from his other hand. The two were soon locked, a blast caught in each hand, one trying to push the other back. The collision of spectral energy sent pulsating waves ricocheting across the room that shook both combatants, rocking them back and fourth and sliding them along the floor.

As Vlad tried to gain dominance, he could not help but notice a peculiarity in Katou's actions. He didn't seem to be trying to knock Vlad back. He seemed to be trying to turn their struggle at a ninety-degree angle. It made little sense to Vlad, but in any case he wasn't about to let Katou control this bout. He held fast. The blasts kept shaking and shooting off waves, nudging the two apart. When Vlad felt he had lost too much ground, he marched forward, pressing his hands in towards Katou's. He had brought the two of them together, both blasts at full size and power.

The shock waves from the energy became great enough then to send both combatants flying.

Katou was knocked against the wall near his sword. Vlad continued falling.

As he fell he lost sight of the old man and his vision became clouded by red.

Katou had been trying to turn them around. He had been trying to prevent the shock waves from knocking Vlad into the pit.

As the ghost whom he should have easily destroyed vanished behind the crimson cloud, Vlad could not express his rage any more than by an open mouth of shock and a curse on Jack's name.

Raw red energy poured into the half-ghost's body from every pore and every opening. It filled his veins, nerves, and cells. It filled his heart, mind, and lungs. It set fire to him inside and out. It seemed certain that at any moment he would be reduced to a blackened ash.

Vlad thought he heard himself scream. He couldn't tell; his ears had been filled with ectoplasm. He couldn't feel his mouth open or shut anymore. He couldn't see; his eyes were clamped shut in a vain effort to protect them. All he could feel was the burn as he descended down to meet Hades.

In his numbness to all but pain, he did not feel his canines grow long and pointed. He did not feel his ears change shape. He did not feel his muscles expanding. And he couldn't notice that his skin was changing colour.

---

Underneath his armour, Skulker had begun to sweat.

After his right arm had been taken, he was met with additional shots at the shoulders, chest, and his left arm from all the Family's forces. All his major weapon systems were soon disabled. Compounding on the problem, the nets he had used on Tony's men had been turned on him, and now trapped the vultures and the ecto-pusses. As soon as the mobsters had finished their handiwork, they had teleported away – an ability Skulker and his comrades lacked – and left their captives to the mercy of the GZPD, who had arrived in force of five cars and at least thirty men.

All thirty were now pounding on the door to Central Supply.

"This does not bode well," Skulker summarised the situation. He rushed for the control panel. There was still time to collect Vlad and get out through the roof. He soon got the door open – to find it closed off by a wall of fire.

"Open up in there!" From outside, the gruff voice of GZPD warden Walker could be heard over a loudspeaker.

The pounding on the door grew louder. Sparks began going off around the hinges as the police began making their way through.

"We're dead," a vulture sighed from within the net.

---

Katou groggily came to, his one eye slowly opening. He had landed hard against the wall near his sword. He tugged it free from the wall and began making his way towards the pit. Though too weak to run or even walk, he dragged himself along as fast as he could.

He had been desperate to turn his and Vlad's last clash around. He had known it was only a matter of time before they were pushed back. Vlad would have nowhere to fall but the pit. From that fall only two things could come.

The first option was a death so painful it was unfitting even for someone like Vlad.

The second Katou didn't wish to think about.

Grasping the railing with one hand, he peered down into the pit. Unbalanced power continued to swirl and foam, but there was no sign of after-life. No sound, no sight, no movement gave away the presence of anyone. Katou began to breathe again.

A huge jolt of crimson jumped out, clipping Katou and sending him sliding along the floor. The red continued up to the ceiling and came crashing down where the samurai had been standing. And as it settled, Katou beheld a horror he wished to never meet face-to-face.

Vlad had emerged, but he was not the same as he once been. His eyes were now completely red and glowing, and his skin had turned blue. His ears were now pointed and bat-like, and his canine teeth had become fangs. His muscles had expanded, tearing up his shirt even more. And his hair had been swept up to resemble devil horns.

Vlad had become the nosferatu ghost of Clockwork's prophecy.

The fall had evidently taken its toll on the half-ghost, as he was hunched over and twisted. With a sharp lurch of his back and a popping sound, he stood erect again. He rearranged his face into a hideous grin. And with a throw of his hands, he sent a hot red blast streaming into Katou's body, driving him into the left wall so hard he left an indentation. Before Katou could even realise what had happened, Vlad had flown forward, seized the samurai's neck, and driven him into the wall again. Along the way, he had recovered his sword and now had it poised to strike Katou's skull.

Katou made an effort to resist, but he had no more energy left to spare. He could barely move, and his mind was in no condition to keep working. He could see the intent in Vlad's eyes, and waited without fear as Vlad pulled the sword back and…

…Hesitated.

The sound of sirens had pierced through the thick walls of the generator room. They came from every direction, with shouts and a booming southern voice barking commands over a loudspeaker.

Katou deflated entirely as he saw Vlad's mind change and his grin twist even more.

With one hard blast of red, the samurai went plowing through the steel walls and spiralling down towards a GZPD car below. He hit it headfirst, crushing the vehicle on impact. He was dragged to his feet and locked in energy cuffs before the pain could even begin to settle.

"Well, well, well…" his eyesight blurred from pain and tears, Katou could barely make out the form of Walker. "Looks like one of the Order survived. Katou, you realise that you've been caught at a crime scene and have a history of interfering with me? That's against the rules."

"You want us to put him in with the others?" Walker's lieutenant, Bullet, asked.

"No. This one's got his own sentence. Get him his own car and take him below the prison."

Katou barely felt his being gruffly dragged along to another car. He didn't think about what Walker's strange order meant. He didn't try and resist when his sword was taken from him.

He was broken. He had been denied even the honourable death at the hands of an opponent in battle. The fatigue and shame welled, crowding out any other thought or emotion as Katou let himself be shoved into a police van like a common criminal. He sat in silence with his head bowed; tired, wounded, and knowing he had utterly failed.

---

Up above, watching unseen from the hole in the wall of Central Supply, was Vlad. He led out a deadly chuckle as he watched the last of the Order be taken away. He had no qualms in letting him live. It was more painful to the samurai this way. For only in death could a disgraced samurai regain his honour.

Vlad knew Walker. He was keener to convict his prisoners and lock them up than interrogate them and make deals. And Katou's stupid code of honour prevented him from ratting out old students. He was safe.

As the vans pulled away he heard the squawking of vultures and the yells of Skulker. All his minions had been taken away. They could potentially spill information in the vain hope of escaping a long sentence.

As Vlad pondered over that risk, his eyes caught his reflection in his sword. As he looked closer, he nearly dropped the blade. His ears were bat-like, he sported fangs, his hair looked like Satan's horns, his eyes were pure red, and his skin was a deep blue.

He began to curse Katou and Jack for his deformity…then began a low, dark laugh.

He had a new face that his ghosts hadn't seen. He had his own mask to hide behind. And so he felt no need to rescue his minions…yet.

He had some excess energy to burn off, injuries to treat, plans to make, and a new ghost-form to get used to.

With a swirl of red, he vanished into the night.


	20. Plasmius

"You! Move it!" a guard called gruffly as he pushed the cell door open.

Skulker, the ecto-pusses, and the vultures all sighed in unison. In perfect harmony they rose from the large cold slab that was Skulker's bed and stepped out into the halls.

Eight years had passed since they had been sold out at Central Supply. After Tony had disabled Skulker's weapon systems, they were in no position to offer real resistance against Walker. The warden had tried them, convicted them, and sentenced them to one million years of standard jail time. By Walker's definition, standard jail time was fairly mild and more a boring existence than a torturous one. But a few months of such monotony almost made the captives yearn for sentence with more labour – they would at least then have something to do.

In their years of captivity, not one of them had seen any sign of Vlad. The samurai whom he had been fighting that fateful night had been taken in with them, but he had been led away after conviction and hadn't been seen since. The vultures had offered a description of Vlad and the limited information they had on his assets – including the location of the Family's headquarters – in hope of getting a shortened sentence. But no trace of their boss could be found anywhere. The Family had moved and was still at large, and all of Vlad's other assets had disappeared. With no trace of Vlad's body anywhere, two possible conclusions had been drawn.

He had either retreated to Earth and abandoned his employers or had been destroyed by the samurai.

None of the captives thought of that as they were led through the long bleak corridors to Walker's office. It was a poorly lit, simple room, with three windows, a desk with a speaker and a rulebook on top of it, six chairs on one side, and Walker on the other. The warden sat stone-faced and still. Something in his eyes suggested he was not happy, a thought that made even Skulker sweat under his armour.

Without a command to prompt him, the guard shoved the six prisoners into the available chairs and left the room, leaving them to the mercy of Walker.

"Skulker," the hard-boiled cop began. "Vultures. Ecto-pusses. Eight years ago you were caught, tried, convicted, and sentenced for trespassing, industrial espionage, and attempting to make off with records vital to one of my cases. That's all against the rules. Your sentence? One million years! And I would make sure you served every one of 'em!"

To illustrate his point, he seized the rulebook on his desk and chucked at his audience, narrowly missing Skulker's head. The vultures shivered together in unison, and the ecto-pusses covered each other's eyes.

"I would make sure you served the sentence," the warden went on, "if things hadn't changed."

All six prisoners relaxed slightly. What did this mean?

"Seems someone wants you out of here and is willing to pay. I don't usually make deals like this, but this one's a special case."

"How much vere ve vorth?" one of the vultures quipped. He soon cowered behind his companions when Walker shot a look back at him.

"I don't take bail money," the cop snorted. "My weapons and equipment are getting old. And I don't have the resources to develop the real-world contraband I confiscate. But someone does, and they made an offer I couldn't refuse."

Skulker raised his head, intrigued. Someone who could develop real-world technology…

Could it be?

"And so," Walker concluded, "you're free to go. But I'm warning you: I see any of your faces again, you and I are gonna have a problem. Now, meet the man who set you free," he motioned towards the shadows in the back of the room.

A tall, well-built blue ghost floated out from the dark curtain, hands clasped behind his back. He had a vampiric look to him, with black hair swooped up like devil horns, sharp canines, pointed ears, and a well-defined goatee. His eyes were cruel and a solid glowing red. He stood with a confident manner and his stare was proud and cruel. What struck Skulker the most, though, was that he was dressed in a white two-piece hazmat lab suit with a black collar, black gloves, and black boots – just as he had seen Vlad wear eight years ago.

"Don't think this gets you off the hook for any offences you may commit in the future," Walker said as he marched over to his mysterious guest. He shoved a finger at the red-eyed ghost as a final guesture of warning.

The vampiric ghost chuckled darkly, clearly amused. With understated drama he drew his hands from behind his back and handed the warden a glowing green nightstick. Skulker recognised it immediately – eight years ago, he had built the first model of such a device based on a design of Vlad's.

Walker examined the device, aimed it at the speaker on his desk, and let off a blast. A green line of energy shaped like an ecto-cuff appeared around the base.

"But then again," the warden smiled, "I may be willing to be lenient."

---

Skulker let out a great sigh as he settled into the seat of a ghost-limousine. After eight years in the GZPD Incarceration Centre, he was free to hunt once more.

That was, if his liberator wasn't just another warden.

The vultures and the ecto-pusses sat back one level of the car, asleep. Free of the distraction they created, Skulker examined this mystery ghost sitting across from him hard and long. He was like no one the hunter had ever seen before, and he had yet to speak, but there was something so familiar about him…

"I thank you for releasing me to prowl again," Skulker said with enough gusto in his voice to appear intimidating in case this ghost was trouble. "Tell me…where did you acquire that lab suit?"

"Oh, this thing?" the ghost said in a familiar, smug voice with a slight accent. "It's standard lab wear. I've had suits like it for years."

Under his armour, Skulker's eyes bulged. The ghost grinned knowingly as the hunter tried to find words.

"Glad to see your eye is still sharp, Skulker," Vlad Masters said lightly. "So sorry to have left you in there so long, but I had some problems with this new form to master. And without you around, Technus was the only real mechanic I had for building your bail."

Skulker tried articulating any number of the things inside his mind – relief, intimidation, anger, confusion…and all he could manage was "Masters?"

"About that," Vlad yawned as he leaned back and crossed his legs. "After that incident, I decided to use this new form to my advantage. The Family hasn't seen me like this, and as long as I stay like this in The Ghost-Zone, they'll never find me. But that does me little good without a new name. So, from now on, you are to refer to me as…Plasmius."


	21. From Don to dusk

Tony sat in his office, a bleak room at the end of a long corridor. It was a smaller room than his last office, but that suited him just fine, as did the absence of windows or wiring or lighting. The oil lamp he kept was snuffed out, the only light coming from his ghostly aura and the crack at the bottom of the door. Oblivious to how he was drumming his fingers along his desk, he read the newspaper article for what seemed to be the tenth time. He did not like this. He did not like this at all.

The latest edition of _The Ghost-Zone Times_ on his desk carried the headline "WALKER – ARMED AND DANGEROUS," with the subtitle "GZPD warden re-armed with new technology." The article went on to describe how Walker had new and advanced weaponry at his disposal – and it left the same signs as what Vlad had used eight years ago against the Order.

During the past eight years, Vlad had been presumed destroyed. There had been no signs of him nor his assets, and the men he had brought with him to the set-up had been taken away to Walker's prison. Central Supply and the conjoining theatre had burned down shortly after the police had left the scene. There seemed no way he could have escaped or survived. Tony had personally reported him dead to Luchesi. They had moved out as planned, business continued as usual, and all of the technology that Vlad had brought in had vanished, ensuring continued sales with no competition. Tony had been able to put his great fear aside and worry about other matters – business, security, Walker, accidents on fishing trips…what he had been used to. Compared to the turmoil that Vlad had caused him, these fears were now a comfort.

But this headline brought all that comfort to a halt.

This news – and with it, the chance of Vlad's return – had even Luchesi on his toes. And it came at a very bad time for Tony. There were signs that he would soon become _consigliere_. Pappi, the current man on the job, was ready for retirement. Such bad luck as this was most unwelcome. And Tony had been there first-hand when Vlad had slain Guyart. Vlad knew that Tony had been there at Central Supply to set him up. Those two thoughts together formed an image that the ghost did not wish to dwell upon.

A noise from outside his door caused the advisor to slide in his chair. Hands shaking, he reached down for the drawer where he kept refined blue ectoplasm as a relaxant. He was letting his nerves run away with him again. He needed rest. But the noise repeated itself. It occurred a third time. And a fourth.

Tony's first instinct was to hide. In his business, strange noises meant conflict, and he did not cope well with conflict. And there were very few reliable men in this corridor of the building. He was the only advisor in this hall. But the lust for a new position gave him some encouragement. He drew his ghost-gun from the holster behind his suit jacket, cracked the door open, and timidly peaked out of his room.

There was nothing that he could see. The wooden hall, lit only by antique gas lamps, were vacant, and there was no sign that anyone had come by. But before Tony had a chance to convince himself that it was just his paranoia acting up again, a loud bang and two shouts came from up where the hall turned towards the stairs. The ghost lifted his gun. He added his second gun to controlling the weapon, which shook violently.

Two hit men for the family, fat blue ghosts in nice suits, came charging up, shooting their ghost-guns back around the corner. They shouted at Tony, telling him to run, before one of them was caught in a spinning blue and white vortex and sucked back the way he had come. The remaining ghost fired off two more shots before he too was taken. The force that had captured them emerged, and Tony could not suppress a scream. The monstrous suit of armour that had served Vlad so long ago glared back at him, a horrible grin on his face and a strange thermos in his hand.

Tony thrust his hands forward and let off a shot, and it struck the shoulder pad on the hulking metal suit. This brief distraction led Tony make a mad dash for the stairs near his end of the corridor. He didn't look back and didn't waste bullets by firing over his shoulder. He needed to get to Luchesi's office. He had to warn the don. They could prepare then. Tony was sure that he recognised that suit, and he knew who it worked for. Now, whether or not this was a real attack by Vlad, they could prepare.

He hurried up one flight of stairs in a flash, and was well up the second when a real-world rope in a lasso shot up and caught on the railing at the top of the stairwell. Tony jumped back as Vlad Masters; in full Armani suit, hat, overcoat and gloves; pulled himself up from the floor and stood, blocking Tony's way to Luchesi's office.

With a yelp, Tony emptied out his gun, hoping to shoot down this newly returned threat, but to no avail. As long as Vlad was in human form, the bullets just passed right through him. The attempts clearly amused Vlad, who sneered down at the mob advisor.

"Surprised?" Vlad crowed, brushing some lint from his suit as Tony tripped down the stairs in fear. "I have a favour to repay."

A pitch-black ghost ring exploded around Vlad's middle, splitting into two rings moving in opposite directions. Tony began to sweat and shiver even more as Vlad's ghost form revealed itself. Clad in a white and black labsuit, this blue-skinned, red-eyed demonic presence was the kind of figure that Tony had seen only in his nightmares. Fangs gave Vlad's horrid grin even more menace, and his black-gloved hands were alight with hot red flame. With a grand sweep of his arms he brought the fire above his head, letting it meld into a glowing ball of energy.

Tony whirled around, ready to scramble away, but his path was blocked off by the suit of armour. He looked from the monster disrupting his escape to the figure who had haunted him for so long and had sprung back from death. He knew where his fate lied. With a last shiver and a gulp, he threw his hands over his head in a vain effort to shield his head as the last seconds of his life ticked away.

The burn lasted but a moment…then there was nothing.

---

Vlad spent no time looking over his handiwork. Becoming human once more, he turned towards the stairs and headed up. There was one last piece of business to attend to today. It didn't take him long to find the right door, and with no pretence, he threw it open.

Luchesi's office lay just his old one had eight years ago, bookshelves and desks and all. The old don himself was standing, his hat on his head and his overcoat draped over his shoulders. His white and red cape and Guyart's rapier that Vlad had given him years ago lay on top of his desk. The mob boss gave no sign of fear at Vlad's presence; he merely raised his left eyebrow.

"I thought it might be you," he said dryly, drawing an edition of _The Ghost-Zone Times_ out from under his cape. "I cannot say I knew you were the one making the noise downstairs. But in any event, when there is noise, I am quick to leave. You are quite the resilient one, Vlad. Had you stayed with the Family you would have made a fine _consigliere. _Far better than Tony will make once Pappi retires."

"You may want to put out a job application," Vlad scoffed. He tossed his hat into the air and destroyed it with a blast from his eyes, and his coat and gloves burned away to reveal his Armani suit underneath. Black rings formed again, and the monster replaced the man.

This time the don raised both eyebrows.

"I suggest that you use less raw red ectoplasm," Luchesi said. "It is not wise to take in so much of it."

"Hmm," Vlad sneered. "There's that old warning again. But enough of that. I believe you know why I'm here." Vlad's grin faded, and his voice became as inhuman as his looks.

"I believe I do." Luchesi sighed sadly. With speed surprising for a man of his size and build, the don made a grab for the sword on his desk and levied the point at his former man.

Vlad stared at the blade, uninterested. His _katana_ appeared at his side, and he readied it, as if for combat. Then, with great dash, he brought the weapon down over his knee and broke it neatly in half. He disintegrated the pieces with red flame.

That part of his life was over. He would fight like a samurai no more.

Luchesi took no notice of Vlad's actions, instead making a lunge. The half ghost duplicated himself once, and the two Vlads flew off in opposite directions from the thrust. One Vlad seized the sword and smacked Luchesi across the face. The other shot out a red blast that sent Luchesi to the floor. They re-joined over the don, poised to strike with a large blast. But Luchesi had more fight in him than Tony. He fired green blasts from his eyes, and Vlad was forced to raise a shield. He caught his prey making a run at the door. He converted the shield into a ball and threw it.

With a stoic face, Vlad watched the don of the Ghost-Zone Family disintegrate before his eyes.

Skulker came running up moments later. "We've taken the advisors and head Family members," he reported.

Inside his head, Vlad threw himself a celebration. By the end of the day, all business would be taken care of.

"Get them ready," he commanded. He watched as Skulker left before turning his attention to Luchesi's desk. The white and red cape remained where it was. Vlad picked it up and felt the material between his fingers. It was a nice, light fabric. He liked the red. And he didn't really wish to leave the labsuit his ghost-form wore looking as undignified as it did.

He used his energy to create a red spectral mirror in front of him. He whipped the cape around him, letting it fall onto his shoulders. He carefully fastened the cape, welding the metal studs to his lab wear with spectral energy. He adjusted the collar so that it didn't go up into his hair. He posed with it a bit, pulling it over his body and spreading it out like a pair of wings.

This was just the touch his appearance needed.


	22. Target: Amity Park

Vlad Plasmius sat cross-legged and cool at the head of a long, smooth oak table. He was at the bottom level of the Family's headquarters in the boardroom, a black place of gloom with no windows and a single lamp hanging from the ceiling that cast bizarre shadows everywhere. Stylish murals of macabre scenes covered the walls, and a rich Oriental rug was spread out on the floor.

The six Family advisors - Armando, Fredo, Sonny, Romano, Michael, and Phil – sat around him. Also present were two figures whom Vlad had seen only once before – Pappi, the _consigliere_, and Roberto, the sub-boss. Vlad had arranged for Skulker to have them all brought down, unarmed, once Luchesi and Tony were taken care of.

"Gentlemen," Vlad smiled. "I'm sure you all remember me. Tony must have given you all some very amusing raves about those disappearances I caused years ago. Well, I paid Tony and Luchesi a visit as soon as I was back. And those little meetings have made me the acting president of this syndicate. And I say that, in light of Walker's new weaponry, we stop restricting the flow of technology in The Ghost Zone so he has more to come up against."

The eight old hands of the Family glared at him with distrust and dislike, just as Vlad had expected.

"Where are Tony and Luchesi?" Roberto demanded.

"Extended vacation," Vlad said, leaning back.

"Say we refuse?" Pappi coughed as he rose to his feet. "What then?"

The grin faded from Vlad's face. His red eyes came alight. Twin beams of crimson leapt out from his eyes and slammed into the _consigliere_. Pappi had just begun to scream when his entire form was reduced to a pile of green goo on the floor. The Family members glared down at that puddle, terror etched into every inch of their face.

"Think it over," Vlad purred. He rose to his feet and, with a swish of his cape, made his way out the room, closing the doors tight behind him. Skulker was waiting for him outside, a sinister-looking remote in his hand. The black control had two points sweeped up like devil-horns and the two buttons in front were red and arranged like eyes.

Vlad took it and pressed a green button at the bottom that was shaped like a bat wing.

From the bottom of the door, a flickering emerald light, an otherworldly hum, and some muted moans escaped the boardroom. Skulker looked slightly uncomfortable, rubbing the back of his head. Vlad, on the other hand, had an evil grin drawn across his face, fangs glistening.

After a few minutes, the glow, the hum, and the moans ceased, and Vlad re-opened the door. The boardroom was now vacant of any inhabitants and every chair except Vlad and Pappi's had a green blob resting on it.

"Excellent work on the Spectral Energy Vaporiser, Skulker," Vlad said, flipping the remote back at his minion. "Remarkably effective, especially with the amount of time you had."

"If I may, Plasmius…" Skulker gulped. "Was it entirely necessary to destroy them?"

"Would you trust them after what we did to Luchesi?" Vlad said, not even turning around. "That's all for now." That closed any further discussion. Skulker floated backwards, shutting the doors behind him. Vlad took his seat again, placing his feet up on the table as he contemplated his achievements.

Yes, it had been necessary to eliminate the powers of the Family. Vlad knew they would not have been loyal to him had he wanted to take over the Family. But Vlad had no interest in continuing the crime syndicate. He wanted it destroyed. So long as the Family existed, there was veil of fear and control over The Ghost Zone that made everyone afraid. Even a changing of the guards would not eliminate the intimidation that Luchesi had built up. A quick destruction of the Family would free up The Ghost Zone. The control over the flow of technology would be gone, and the chain of command would collapse. Vlad would be free to take anyone he needed directly under his command. The only authority left would be Walker – and Vlad had him hooked with a supply of weaponry.

Vlad had no interest in ruling The Ghost Zone. He just wanted it set up so that he could take whatever he needed from it whenever he wanted. And he had achieved exactly that.

Now he had only two more things to acquire before his life was perfect. And one of them he could get that very night.

---

"What do you mean you won't sell me the Packers?" Vlad Masters yelled into his old-fashioned rotary telephone. He was in his Wisconsin castle, sitting at the tea table in his den. He had finally gotten around to making a bid for the Packers – one billion dollars. This deal, however, wasn't sweet enough for the city of Green Bay.

"Do you have any idea how long I've been waiting for this moment? I'm a Packer's fanatic! …Though that is such a negative word. I would be a fine owner for the team! What? It's money, isn't it? I raise my offer to…what do you mean, money isn't an issue? What's the problem then? Oh? _What?_ Fine, then! But mark my words, Mr. Mayor! Nobody says 'no' to Vlad Masters! You will rue the day you declined my offer to buy the Packers!" He slammed the phone down and sank into his chair, arms crossed and skulking.

"What do you want?" he barked as red ectoplasmic smoke drifted from his nose. Skulker had flown up from the lab.

"I…I was wondering if the equipment for my upgrades had come in yet," the hunter asked, trying not to sound too concerned.

"I haven't placed the order yet!" Vlad yelled. "Come back later!" he paid no mind as Skulker sank back down through the floor. He remained where he was, still brooding.

After a few minutes, however, he had begun to consider Skulker's request. Vlad himself needed new equipment too. He picked up the phone and dialled the number of VladCo Headquarters – the technological division of Dalv Corp.

"VladCo Headquarters, how may I help you?" the male secretary said on the other line.

"Vlad here. I need a large supply of our ecto-melded steel."

"Oh, Mr. Masters! I'm sorry, but we don't have any ready at this time."

"_What_?"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Masters," the secretary continued, a little more nervous than before. "A large order was placed a few weeks ago, and it cleaned out all our stock. We just shipped the order yesterday. We'll have more ready in a few days…"

"Who would place an order like that?" Vlad demanded. "Who in this country takes ghosts seriously and would have the knowledge to find out that VladCo has a private division devoted to the sale of…"

The answer hit him like a brick wall.

_Maddie._

And with her, Jack.

Today might yet yield one of the two things his life still needed.

"Sir?" the secretary piped up timidly at the end of the line.

"Wha? Oh, no worries, my boy. I just realised the very person who could have made that order. And if my hunch is correct, then she would happen to be a very old and dear friend of mine whom I haven't seen in ages. What was the address for the order?"

"Oh, sir…we're not supposed to divulge that kind of…"

"Do you want to start job searching?"

"FentonWorks. 2122 Burton Road. Amity Park, Massachusetts," the secretary spat out hurriedly.

"Thank you, my boy. I'll call back in a few days to specify my needs." Vlad set the phone down calmly, chuckling to himself.

At long last…he had them. The address was his. He had the resources. He just needed to get the big oaf out of the way and pay a social call to the grieving widow.

But why not have some fun with his old pal Jack before the kill?

"Skulker," Vlad spoke into the communicator on his watch. "Where are the ecto-pusses?"

"Fighting over the table scraps I threw to them. Why?"

"Bring them up here. I have a job for them." Vlad rolled his jacket sleeve back over his watch, a nasty sneer on his face.

"So, Jack…let's see how your skills with ghosts have grown."


	23. And so he waits

Vlad Plasmius slowly opened his eyes. He stood with a box of weapons for Valerie in his hands, in the centre of his laboratory. It was the present-day, he was about to leave, and according to the digital clock resting on his lab table, only five minutes had passed since he looked at his old college photo.

Twenty years.

In five short minutes, he had gone over twenty years.

From Jack's bumbling with the Proto-Portal to the first time he sent a ghost to Amity Park.

And that last chapter of his life was still being written.

The ecto-pusses were supposed to test Jack's ghost-hunting skills. He found out later that they had decided to satisfy their appetites by attacking two fourteen-year old children. The ecto-pusses hadn't gotten their meal, however. They were quickly beaten back into The Ghost Zone by what was said to be a "ghost-boy."

Vlad had quickly moved to send in a more competent agent – Skulker. The hunter was supposed to confront Jack, not worry about the ghost-boy. But, true to his nature, once he found the child, he decided to make him his prey. That little endeavour had ended with Skulker coming back to Vlad through the Ghost Zone without his armour. It ended up taking no small amount of money and time meant for other project to re-assemble him.

After those failures, Vlad had decided to take matters into his own hands. The twentieth anniversary for his college class was upon him. Offering to host it at his castle, he welcomed Maddie and Jack with a special invitation. He arranged a perfect plan. He would overshadow Jack, turn him into a monster in the eyes of Maddie and their old classmates, and then dispose of him later. Maddie would join him, he would find a way to buy the Packers, he would get the Crown of Fire and the Ring of Rage, and he would have all that he wanted.

There was one thing that he didn't count on – Danny.

Danny Fenton. A fourteen-year old freshman with a shy demeanour, two best friends, a kind heart, and poor math grades.

That boy was also Danny Phantom, the misguided ghost-boy who could only think to use his powers to defend people who didn't know he existed rather than obtain what was denied him.

_Daniel_.

Maddie's son. The only other natural half-ghost in existence. The son that should have been his. The perfect apprentice.

Vlad's worst enemy.

The boy lacked experience and power. He also lacked the courage to do all that was necessary. But Vlad knew that Daniel could be made just like him. He knew it! He only needed to create the right tragedy to turn the boy from the path he had foolishly chosen.

Vlad had tried to orchestrate such tragedies from the beginning. Once he had found out that ghosts had ruined Valerie Grey's life, he had turned her into a ghost hunter right in Danny's own backyard. He had trapped young Daniel and Maddie at his Colorado retreat while he tried to have Jack killed. He had tried to turn his sister against him. And he had forced Daniel to work for him by endangering his friends with lethal ecto-acne once it came back to haunt Vlad himself.

But alas, his efforts had thus far proven to be in vain. Money, power, and tragedy had not yet persuaded young Daniel to stand by Vlad's side. And so, from his first refusal back at the anniversary, Vlad had sought out alternatives.

In the equipment he provided Valerie, he had monitoring devices installed into it to record Daniel's fights. He had used that data, DNA samples, and the machines he employed for his experiments in Colorado to attempt to clone the perfect son. Someone born to Vlad whom he could raise to be free of the notions that cluttered Daniel's mind. Someone who could take Daniel's place in Maddie's heart once she decided to join him. But the clone had been destroyed by the only half-decent try he had come up with – Danielle, a silly little girl.

So Vlad continued to plot and scheme and wait. He would have Maddie. He would have Daniel – the real one or a perfect clone. He would have the Packers.

He had all the tools he needed. He had the money. He had the equipment. He had finally gotten the Crown of Fire and, at the sacrifice of a chance for the Ring of Rage, the Fright Knight.

All he needed was the opportune moment.

Vlad's eyes drifted again to a newspaper article from _The Milwaukee Journal_. The writing discussed the need to arm Wisconsin against ghost-invasion, citing an incident in Amity Park. Danny was mentioned by name as the one ghost who fought to defend the city.

"That's my boy," Vlad chuckled. "Enjoy your time on the stage as a superhero. I'll close the curtain on that act of yours soon enough."

**_The End…?_**


End file.
